Herido Addams and the Chamber of Secrets
by TaleCaster
Summary: Part 3 of the Herido Addams story. Hogwarts' darkest student is impressed - it seems there is someone else spreading a little chaos this year. It could be fun. Dark!Harry
1. Chapter 1

Narcissa watched with awe as Herido Addams handled his violin like an aficionado, fiddling away with such speed and precision that she wouldn't blink if Draco was to tell her he was a musical savant – although, as she looked across to the other Addams children, she realised the same could be said of any of them. Even their… dismembered hand, handled his tambourine with enviable skill.

The feet of the Addams parents also moved with perfect grace as they danced, lost in each other's gaze, to the rising tempo of their children's music.

The Malfoys had been delighted when Draco agreed to finally invite his friend's family to share a meal at their home. Their son was very open about his friendship with Herido, and indeed about his pride in having forged that friendship, but for reasons unknown he had been resistant about the idea of introducing the two families.

Draco was surprised at how calm dinner had been – he was half expecting goat sacrifices and auror raids, but it turned out the twins were telling the truth when they said the Addams family was actually charming and gracious and above all knew how to enjoy life… though Ron's words also bounced around his head – something about a household of madmen…

The Addams too had been pleasantly surprised with how the evening had played out. They would of course always accept such invitations, but were resigned to suffer through all the strange foods and entertainments people seemed to favour these days. Draco though had done his homework (he'd asked the twins), and advised his mother to order in the most exotic foods she could find. At first his parents had been resistant, insisting that putting on such a display was vulgar, but after receiving compliments on their kangaroo fillets they knew their son had been right. The Addams' were too polite to mention how the elves seemed to have left the best bit out of the Fugu. What was the point of eating such a deadly fish if you neglected to include the poison?

"Ah, the merry abandon of the Czardas!" Gomez cried as he circled his wife. "The wild rhythm of the tambourines – it sets my gypsy blood afire!"

Morticia stopped dancing to look at him. "Darling, you have no gypsy blood." Gomez too stopped dancing at this apparently shocking revelation.

"I haven't?" Concerned he raised a hand to his forehead. "I must have a fever." Morticia quickly added her own hand to double check, before shaking her head.

"Nonsense. C'est la dance!" The Addams patriarch suddenly gripped his wife and pulled her close – closer than the all-too-proper Malfoys thought decent.

"Tish, when you speak French it really drives me wild." Morticia laughed kindly and the hosts forced themselves to look away from what suddenly seemed far too intimate to be public. Though, they could still hear the smacking of lips, so were grateful when music continued and the dancers fell back into step to conclude the dance. Narcissa glanced with practiced subtlety to own husband. When was the last time they had danced together like that?

Heri smiled indulgently at his parents as he set the borrowed instrument aside. Draco was looking paler than usual, poor thing, his parents mustn't be quite so forthcoming with their affections.

As the Addams adults finally made their way over to Lucius and Narcissa, Draco watched concerned, as Thing poured two cups of that same smoking tea that Heri and Hermione drank. He had no idea where those cups or that teapot had come from, but quickly decided that was the least of his concerns as he heard his father once more attempt to engage the two in political talk.

"Do _you_ have a fever, Draco?" Wednesday asked, sounding all too eager for his liking.

"Perhaps we should explore the gardens to get some air." Herido offered. Draco shook his head immediately: he had to stay here to monitor his father and possibly run interference or damage control. Pugsley laughed at the blonde, almost as though he'd read his mind.

"It's getting dark out." Draco tried to reason, knowing it was useless as the three children began towards the French doors.

"Of course," Heri called over his shoulder, "the best time for exploring!" And resigned to his fate, Draco followed. After facing the Forbidden Forest he was hardly afraid of his own back garden, but to leave his parents with these people…

When he caught up with the others they were all stood frozen in a line and if he didn't know better, he would say they were afraid, but he did and so edged to instead describe them as in shock.

"Oh Draco, Herido never told us…" The older boy started with a sense of genuine pity.

"I…I never knew." Heri shared his brother's tone, which only added to his confusion. They sounded as though they'd just discovered he was some poor abused orphan or something.

He took a few unsure steps and peered out over the lawn, but could see nothing to have caused such a reaction. It was odd that the peacocks were still out, they would be normally be roosting for the night… He held in his exasperation as he realised the problem.

"They're just peacocks." He tried. "They're here mostly for show, almost like ornaments." The three turned to look at him like he'd gone mad.

"Why would you…" But Heri saved him from having to answer whatever, likely insane, question was about to be posed.

"I think, darling sister, it's just as mother says: some people have a twisted sense of beauty." They all looked little more comfortable at his words. Yes of course.

Draco was about to move them all along when he noticed a glint of steel.

"They are ornaments, you say?" Wednesday asked, pulling out a knife that was far too big to have been hidden in her dress. "Not pets?" Three sets of eyes were once again on him. He knew he shouldn't have. Knew he should have at least tried to protect his property. But this past year with Herido Addams must have affected him greatly, because he appreciated that hungry look in their eyes and was actually excited to engage in whatever game they wanted to play, bloody as it was sure to be. It had been a long, dull summer. He'd met up with the others several times, but with Malfoys, Weasleys and a muggleborn in the group, it had been difficult to find a suitable location to spend any longer than the odd day here and there. And of course Herido had been incommunicado all summer, though he wouldn't talk about why. He wouldn't mind blowing off a little steam.

"No, not pets."

The children returned to the sitting room a few hours later, the blood on their clothes ranging from spattered to soaked. Draco felt bad that in all the fun he'd forgotten all about his parents, but it seemed everything was fine. Well, fine with them anyway. His mother was over by a drinks cabinet with Mrs Addams, chatting quietly, but excitedly about the white powder the latter was showing from its hiding place in the woman's ring. It had been a long time since his mother had looked so engaged in anything while in the company of anyone but family. His father had one eyebrow raised, an impressed look on his face as he gazed down to the house elf at his feet. Mr Addams was stood over the creature and Draco had never heard anything like the tortured cry it was making. It would probably haunt his dreams for the next few weeks.

"…really a very disobedient elf you have here." He caught the end of what Mr Addams was saying. Draco supposed Dobby had always been a little peculiar and wasn't at all surprised the Addams were even stricter with their servants than his own family. "Ah looks like the children have been having fun!" The man said when he noticed them. Lucius looked appalled, but quickly composed himself.

"Yes indeed." Pugsley enthused, before sharing how they had dealt with the disturbing infestation the hosts had. Draco was expecting his father to be angry, at least quietly angry, but to his relief maintained his dignity and spoke with his usual pomp to Narcissa.

"It seems we need to call in a landscaper – we were overdue to redesign the gardens anyway."

It was getting late and the evening coming to its natural close, but after seeing how much fun his children had had, Gomez spoke up:

"Children, why don't you have a sleepover? Or young Draco could stay with us if you like?" He felt bad about everything he'd put them through this summer, they deserved a break and he was sure Fester and Grandmamma would understand when he returned without them.

"A marvellous idea!" Morticia declared. "Why don't you invite your other friends as well and make a party out of it." Draco very much wanted to object. He couldn't wait to visit the Addams residence, if for no other reason than his father was sure to be jealous, and though he thought it might be a bit daunting, the thought of inviting their 'other friends' to Malfoy Manor was downright terrifying.

Draco had eventually decided to tell his father about what had transpired at school, and of Lord Voldemort's involvement. His decision had really come down to wanting his father to have a heads-up, to not wanting him to be blind-sided if the Dark Lord came back. At least now they knew he was still alive and could prepare.

However, he had still not worked up the courage to share his friendship with Hermione or the Gryffindors. His dad had been so pleased with him this year – the pride he'd felt from him was glorious and he didn't want to see that replaced with contempt or worse, disappointment.

"That sounds grand." Narcissa agreed graciously with their guests. "How about it, dear? Would you like to invite your friends over tomorrow?" Draco stuttered for a moment, before nodding simply, unable to think of a decent excuse not to. Maybe he could get away with just inviting Blaise and Daphne.

"Great!" Herido was actually looking forward to catching up with the others. "We'll have to let your elves know of Ron's requirements." He added with a grin.

Lucius was confused "Ron?" He asked. He'd never heard his son speak of any Ron, but Addams seemed to consider him a close enough friend to invite to their get-together.

"Why don't I show you to your rooms?" Draco blurted out suddenly. "It was nice to meet you Mr Addams, Mrs Addams." The Addams children shared an amused look before moving to bid their parents goodbye.

* * *

Lucius had an uneasy night and after tossing and turning for over two hours he decided to get up. He tied his night-robe and made his way downstairs, only to pause before he reached the bottom. The entire entry hall was lit with hundreds of candles and sat facing each other in the middle of the floor were the three Addams children.

"W-What are you doing?" He asked, genuinely curious, if not completely apprehensive. None of them looked at him, but the girl answered.

"Invoking spirits." His mouth gaped for a moment. How could she just say that like it was nothing? She was a baby for crying out loud and Spiritism was dark and dangerous. He took another step down in order to interrupt this madness, but then thought further on it: these were Addams kids after all; maybe this was normal for them.

"You have such an old ancestral home," Herido added by way of explanation when he noticed the man's hesitance. "We thought a few people must have died here over the years."

Shaking his head to make sure he wasn't dreaming, Lucius cautiously made his way over to them.

"And did you contact anyone?" He really hoped they hadn't – couldn't.

"No one particularly interesting." Pugsley informed. "A couple of prisoners from the old days; one of your ancestors – he was actually very funny." All the candles flickered ominously, and before Lucius could say a thing a girl, no older than 7 or 8 appeared in the circle between the siblings. The man was shocked to see she seemed as solid as any of them and not at all like a ghost. The only thing that gave her away was how she flickered with the candles.

"Hello, cousin." She greeted the Malfoy Lord with a small bow, as was custom a few hundred years ago.

"Hello, child." He was pleased to find his voice was strong, despite the strange turn of events. "You must be Aeliana?" She looked just like her still portraits.

"Yes, sir." She answered clearly.

"How did you die?" Pugsley asked the girl with worrying zeal. Lucius didn't know the etiquette surrounding summoning the dead, but he imagined that question was taboo. On top of any general inconsideration though was a learned protectiveness of this girl. Every Malfoy knew the story of Aeliana.

"I fell from a window in the east tower." The man never knew a child's voice could sound so haunting and couldn't help being offended by the disappointed huffs from the three living children.

"You just fell?" Wednesday asked.

"You don't have to answer that!" Lucius finally decided to interrupt. She shouldn't have to relive her own death for the amusement of others.

"But I do, Lord Malfoy." Aeliana said quietly. "I am bound by the will of those who summoned me. I was being chased by the Weasley brothers. They'd been teasing me and I wanted to get away…"

"She was trying to find sanctuary from their relentless mocking, but found herself corned." He took over so she at least wouldn't have to say it all. He suddenly felt cold as he remembered Pugsley saying his ancestor was 'funny' – he couldn't imagine any adult Malfoy taking kindly to being bound to the will of children and dreaded to think about what they found funny about his reaction. He dismissed the thought and continued. "The Weasleys claimed she jumped…"

"I slipped!" She defended herself with pride belonging to a Malfoy. Lucius nodded. The story was a low point for his family. Aeliana was beloved, a princess and the Malfoys processed her death with all the grief and anger they could, and they could be outright vicious when they wanted to be. They threw everything into pursuing the other purebloods legally, stripping them of countless assets and cursed the family magically that they would never be blessed with a female child after so callously taking another's.

Heri grinned down at the candle he held. Tomorrow might prove interesting. Draco had obviously overcome this family feud, but his father might take more work. He'd always just assumed Draco disliked them because they were so poor.

"My Lord, may I make a request?" Lucius looked to the girl and nodded, doubting any Malfoy could deny this girl a thing. "Please reinstate the garden party." He'd not been expecting that. It was at the annual Summer Garden Party that she had died, and no more had been held after the tragic event. "It was always my favourite event, the least stuffy," she added with a crinkling of her nose that gave away for the first time her tender age, "and I always hated that they were allowed to ruin that too." The man of course agreed, having a feeling that once his wife got her hands around it, next year's garden party would be the event of the year.

* * *

"Merlin's balls, Draco!" Fred exclaimed, stepping from the greeting room that held the floo entrance to the Manor and out into the grand hall.

"It's like a bloody hotel." Ron added gruffly.

Draco smirked. "Oh please, as though any of you have been in hotel this impressive." It was the first time that none of his friends could deny him his ego. Even Hermione was impressed.

"It's like Wayne Manor." She caught herself when she noticed Draco's smug look and quickly added "though not as awesome." Which had no effect at all as the others were just confused as to what she was talking about, and it lacked bite as it was a very un-Hermione thing to say.

The three Addams' laughed, making them all jump as they seem to have just materialised beside them.

"Why don't we go outside; there should be enough of us for Quidditch." Once Draco had given them time to appreciate his glorious home, he was eager to get them out of the way – away from his father. Heri had apparently sent out invites late last night and encouraged them to come as soon as possible, which meant that he hadn't had time to warn his dad.

"Hey guys." Blaise greeted as he joined the others. "Oh, good morning, Lord Malfoy." He added when he noticed the man in a doorway on the opposite side of the staircase looking as pristine as ever despite his late night. Draco spun so fast it seemed he was being pulled by an invisible force.

Lucius made his way over, his posture rigid and his words strained. He felt no need to completely hide his distaste at those standing in his home.

"Are you going to introduce me to your little _friends_ , Draco?" The younger Malfoy shrank a little before taking a deep breath. Just as he found his voice to respond, Daphne, Vincent and Gregory joined them, completing the group and making him want to groan – the startled look on Daphne's face was quickly replaced with scandalous amusement and he knew she'd never let him forget this.

"Father," His voice was higher than usual and he heard several snickers. It was actually for the best though, because his own pride didn't allow him to be laughed at. He straightened up and focused his magic – he didn't need it, but it made him feel stronger, reminded him what he was capable of and made him braver, brave enough to face his father even. "Father, let me introduce my friends, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Ron, Fred and George Weasley. Hermione's a Slytherin." He added before he could stop himself trying to mitigate her blood status.

A look of outright repugnance briefly crossed the man's face before he settled on looking down at the newcomers. After a second of uncertainty George was the first step up and greeted his host with dignity and sincere respect that Draco hadn't thought them capable of, something that was quickly mimicked by his twin and then repeated a little less confidently by the other three. As much as they wanted to deny it, Lucius was an intimidating man.

It would seem that the Slytherins weren't the only ones to overcome their prejudices this year. The Weasleys were well aware of their family's history with the Malfoys, but they'd become so used to being with Draco they'd forgotten all about it until they saw the look on his father's face and tried to prove that they were not their ancestors. It was so long ago they didn't think it mattered what really happened way back when it started, and besides their mother said that the birth of their baby sister signalled that the feud had run its course and should have brought an end to animosities. But life was rarely so simple.

Lucius own shock was well hidden as he returned the greetings, though he paused on Hermione.

"Ah yes, I've heard all about you." Hermione didn't know how such a smooth voice could sound so derogatory. "To think that someone with… parents? such as yours could be a Slytherin." He made it sound like she was raised by wild animals.

"My parents are very proud, Mr Malfoy." She returned.

"No doubt." He replied easily before looking to his son. "I do hope you aren't thinking of inviting _them_ here too." Hermione bristled at his words and responded before Draco had a chance to.

"Perhaps you could visit our home instead." Hermione suggested and all the purebloods present thought she might have actually gone mad. "My parents were pleased to have Draco over, I'm sure they would extend you the same courtesy." Oh, Boom! Heri thought. She'd just effortlessly suggested that her muggle parents had more grace than the Malfoy Lord whilst switching his focus from her and to his son.

Lucius' clenched his jaw. He noticed the girl's nervousness – her whole posture and countenance was strained, but she had still given an impressive display and succeeded in diverting his attention. Draco actually gulped while Heri grinned his Cheshire cat grin. He thought the Weasleys would have the harder time after last night and the wounds that were no doubt reopened, but this was fun too.

"Q-Quidditch," To everyone's surprise it was Neville that tried to ease the tension. "Draco, do you have enough brooms for all of us?" It was a bad effort, but wasn't used to having to intervene in such situations, or any situation for that matter.

Lucius considered the Longbottom heir for a moment before turning to his son. "Yes, Draco, show your _friends_ out." The double-meaning of those words were lost on no one. "I can't hide my surprise that these are the people you choose to associate with." Draco forced himself to stand tall against the obvious disapproval. "Actually, I'm surprised at all of you." He added, looking across the more familiar faces of his son's friends. Blaise and Daphne stayed stoic, Crabbe was easily abashed and Goyle just shrugged, not really seeing the problem here.

"You shouldn't be." Heri spoke up or the first time during the exchange. Lucius had almost forgotten about his unpredictable guests. "They are the best I've seen at Hogwarts so far. We all achieved the top marks of our years." He knew such things were important to most parents and assumed the man would know not to include Crabbe and Goyle. "Even Ron."

"Hey!"

"And I can assure you they all more than capable in practice as well as theory."

Lucius ignored the young Weasley's protestations – the way Herido smiled as he said that last part put his teeth on edge. He decided to change tack and cautiously challenged the darker children.

"And your parents know of these friendships?" Surely he could find allies against these light-loving types in the darkest family around.

"Of course," Pugsley answered. "The delightful Hermione and fine Weasley brothers have all stayed with us and we all relished their company." Well the truly stumped Malfoy Snr.

"If you'll excuse us Mr Malfoy, I think we'll head out now." Wednesday had had enough. She found the man's prejudice more pathetic than amusing. She'd much rather be teaching her brother's friends how to play Quidditch the Addams way.

* * *

The young friends decided to stay outside during the afternoon. It was quite the sight to see and left a funny knot in Narcissa's stomach as she looked out at the scene. At first she'd thought everything to be perfectly innocent – sunbathing, sports, all the usual summertime activities, but of course she was wrong. Well, Daphne was indeed sunbathing, lying back on a lounger with her eyes closed, diligently ignoring her peers in favour of the classical sonata playing in the background. Besides her however was a pitch black gazebo, which adequately shielded the Addams girl from even a single ray of sunlight. Narcissa couldn't make out what she was doing, but there was thick grey smoke billowing from the shaded area and crawling along the grass. Heri was effortlessly butchering a few peacocks into grillable sizes, while Ron and Blaise manned separate barbeques, seemingly in the middle of an argument. The Longbottom boy was watching on as he leaned lazily against a stone plinth, but he was holding one arm high above his head and this arm was completely encompassed in a lattice of thick bark that appeared to be moving – weaving a constant path up and down. The Goyle boy might have been sleeping, but she had a feeling he was knocked out considering the uncomfortable position he lay in. She could just about see one of the twins' heads – the only part of his body that was above ground and his twin was with Pugsley as the older boy was coaching him and Crabbe in archery, much to the distress of the elf Hynx, who was trembling as he held a target high above his head.

The knot finally started to ease when she finally caught sight of Draco who was on his new broom… trying to coax the muggleborn girl out of a tree. She shook her head. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

"You're finally down then?" Heri's voice was full of mirth as Hermione approached him. She smacked his arm with a scowl.

"I'm never flying again. Congratulations, you've succeeded in scarring me for life" He looked happy with this so she corrected: "Oh not really!" Killing Bambi had probably done that, but she wasn't about to tell him. She glanced across the small section of lawn they currently occupied. "It's strange, don't you think? How much things have changed in just a year?" Heri followed her gaze but didn't quite see her point. She couldn't believe how much things had changed. Being here was like being on one the picnics she used to go on to stately homes and heritage sites with her parents. Only now she was here with a big group of dear friends, the stately home belonged to one of those friends – three of them where healing from what could have been a fatal Quidditch match and one was enjoying a blood-pop made from actual human blood and there was dried peacock blood all over the place that no one seemed to mind. It was strange, but it was better.

"We're related, you know? To the Malfoys" Heri broke her from her reverie. "Mother noticed last night. More distant cousins." He informed with a smile – his family had a lot of those.

"You're related to Draco?" She hissed, "No way! I know that all the purebloods interbreed but I thought the Addams would at least be immune." Heri wanted to laugh as she compared it to a disease.

"Not the Addams, no. But yes, Draco is my second cousin, twice removed – or something like that. But still, family is family."

"Oooh." Hermione realised what he meant and was about to ask for details when someone beat her to it.

"What!" She turned to find that Draco had approached them at some point. Whoops.


	2. Chapter 2

Black robes billowed, casting sinister shadows in their wake as Snape made his way through the familiar halls of Malfoy Manor. His friendship with Lucius wasn't what it once was – another sacrifice of his change of allegiance. They had done so much, side by side, and yet he had turned his back on their shared ideals. They still saw each other, but it wasn't like before when he was a regular guest of the house, almost a member of the family.

Maybe this was the reason the Malfoy Lord's greeting was lacking, or maybe there was something more. Snape erred on the side of caution: he had a feeling his friend had the same suspicions he did, the suspicions that brought him here this night.

"What the hell has been going at that school of yours?" Lucius demanded as soon as his guest entered the room. Snape paused before answering, taking his time to close the intricately carved heavy wooden doors. His friend's words could have meant anything and he certainly wasn't about to give away his own suspicions first.

He'd spent all summer deciding on the best course of action following the eventful school year before coming to the conclusion that he needed more information. It would do no good to act on possibilities, especially considering what acting without all the facts had cost him in the past.

Thankfully, Lucius spoke again while he poured two generous portions of whiskey.

"Did you not think I might be interested to know what Draco has been up to? How could you let this happen? You're his godfather!" He accused. "You are supposed to protect him, not sit back and watch while he befriends mudbloods and blood-traitors." The more he thought about it, the more Lucius felt he didn't know his son at all.

"I imagined he would have told you." Snape answered honestly. "I assure you, it came as a surprise to me as well." Lucius scoffed before settling down into a plush armchair, staring down into his drink as though it would give the answers he sought. "It was smart of him though – those children are nothing like you might imagine."

"Oh believe me, I know!" He looked up into the curious black eyes of his old friend and sneered. "You would never believe who I played host to yesterday." Snape honestly didn't know what he meant. They were talking about Draco's new friends, but surely… His eyebrows rose.

"Why on earth…"

"Herido Addams." Lucius said by way of explanation.

"Oh, you had Addams over?" The blonde broke out into a smug smirk.

"With his parents and siblings." That tone of absolute superiority was back as Snape hid his jealousy. It wasn't exactly unexpected, but what a coup.

"And they brought Draco's, ah, other friends?" Lucius shook his head before recounting the events of the last few days.

"Well, all I can say is I wouldn't underestimate any of them." The potions master shuddered as he remembered seeing what Ronald Weasley had done to Wood. "You aren't dealing with Arthur or Frank or whatever dreadful muggles call themselves Granger's parents. These children are different creatures all together." Lucius raised an eyebrow in question, but Snape just shook his head, though he did continue, "Dumbledore is under the impression your son's little gang have been learning dark arts." He couldn't tell him what was going on with Weasley, but thought the man should probably know this much.

Lucius forced his face to remain impassive at the news, but he was conflicted. On the one hand, he was over the moon and full of pride and smug satisfaction that his son was learning – whether from or with Addams, either was welcome and would ensure he became a strong wizard – but on the other hand, the dark arts were incredibly dangerous and who knew what kind of things Addams was into; if their first night here was anything to go by it couldn't be good.

He decided to push past it and get to what he really wanted to know. "And what else has been going on this year?" it sounded like a casual question, but Snape knew better – he was digging for information. It seemed they were both in the dark about some things.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked naturally.

"Well it was all over the papers that Addams killed a professor after being attacked. What in Morgana's name was a dark wizard doing teaching at Hogwarts all year?"

"I do not know." Snape said with a frown. He had tried to find out.

Lucius merely scoffed once more as he stood to refill their drinks. Alcohol always loosened tongues, but that wasn't why he was drinking. His dark friend was too good for that.

"Dumbledore didn't share any theories?" He asked with obvious disbelief. Whether the aged wizard was playing Snape or the other way around, he couldn't see him not sharing. The guest stared into the fire for a few moments in thought. He had come here for information. If anyone knew anything of the Dark Lord it would be Lucius, and he knew he would need to give information to receive any.

"Dumbledore is under the impression he stole the Philosopher's Stone, which was being kept 'safe' at the school." The blonde listened and Snape let out a genuine sigh of frustration before continuing. "I did attempt to discover his reasons… I believe he was going to confide in me after I declared my loyalty to the cause, but he was killed before he could." Lucius processed that slowly. Was Severus' loyalty to the dark genuine?

"Why would he attack on Addams child?" He asked with honest confusion. He couldn't think any reason for it. And neither could Snape.

"He _is_ an exceptionally annoying child." Was the only answer he could give.

"And have you heard of anything from our former… peers?" Voldemort was of course not his peer – the Dark Lord had no peers – but he wasn't about to tell what he knew of the man to a possible traitor.

Silence reigned for a long time as each man considered his position. Snape had given all the information so far, though with the exception of his son's extracurricular learning it was nothing he didn't already know. Snape knew though that he had to prove himself. If he was ever to be accepted back into the fold sharing information with Lucius was vital. The two of them were among his Lord's most trusted, so this is where he needed to position himself.

He finally broke the silence. "Lucius, we've known each other a long time, and I trust you more than most." That wasn't really saying much, but Lucius still raised an eyebrow at the man's use of nostalgia. "I can only say what I believe to be true, though I have no proof and hate to share speculation…"

"Share it anyway."

"When I first suspected Quirrell of trying to steal the Stone, I assumed he was doing it for his own sake." He sighed, not sure how to explain the leap he made. "However something happened," he held up a hand to halt questions, "that made me think maybe there was more behind it. He was such a weak, skittish man after all, hardly brave or ambitious enough to go after something like that."

Lucius smirked. "Indeed." And something about the way he said it gave Snape confidence to go on.

"I decided to confront him to see if he was doing the bidding of someone else, someone more powerful…" He paused again. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. "The most obvious candidate was the Dark Lord, who had always valued immortality, so I took a chance and assured him of my continued loyalty, offering my assistance if he could confirm my suspicions. He denied everything, but he wasn't hard to read. I believe he would have told me who he was working for before the end of term, but unfortunately any chance of that was precluded."

Lucius poured another drink, thinking maybe he was drinking to loosen his own tongue. If he was wrong and Snape was indeed a traitor the Dark Lord would have his head for outing him. However Snape had been trusted in the last war and if his Lord believed his sincerity, he was sure he would have allowed to man to assist him.

"I… share your opinions on the situation. It's a shame you couldn't have helped." Snape narrowed his eyes. Lucius knew more than he was saying.

"Have you seen Him?" He asked before he could talk himself out of it.

"No, my friend. But if you are correct, I believe it's time to get our house in order, don't you?"

Nothing more was said after that: he hadn't confirmed anything and if Dumbledore made any moves after this, he would know Snape couldn't be trusted. There was still _something_ off about the whole thing and at the centre of his unease was not knowing why his Lord would attack Addams.

* * *

Heri and his siblings had been to Hell this summer. They'd made the most of it, of course, but there were secrets from his time there that he couldn't even share with his family. He didn't want them to worry.

In any case, because of this his back-to-school shopping had to wait until late August and so he decided to go on his birthday, with all his friends and made a day of it. It was only a few days after his stay with the Malfoys, and a few days before the start of term, but he was more than used to the intercontinental trip by now. Daphne had been so enthusiastic about this day out he'd second guessed his inviting her. He had indeed been through a lot in his short life, but he wasn't sure he could handle shopping with the Greengrass heiress.

He was in half a mind to make a run for it when he saw her approaching through the crowd of last minute shoppers, but she suddenly stopped, a few feet from him and stared in something akin to horror. Lurch had that effect on people. Heri just smiled and held out his hand.

"Let me introduce Lurch. He's here to hold the bags." She seemed overly pleased with this explanation and as she took his hand and pulled him into a greeting hug and he realised his mistake – he'd just removed a barrier to excessive shopping. Heaven, Hell and Purgatory help him!

As soon as she broke the hug she was chatting away, emphatically explaining about a new boutique she'd found that would provide a great deal toward his new school wardrobe – Heri wasn't aware he needed an entire new wardrobe, he already had clothes, he only really needed to buy a larger size for his school robes and then this year's supplies and books…

As she continued to talk she led him along the alley, Lurch following behind with a long-suffering groan and he started to get a funny feeling, a strange sense of dread.

"Where are the others?" He asked with growing trepidation. He nearly drew a weapon in defence of the frightfully, beautifully, dauntingly satisfied grin she gave him.

"I told them not to bother coming for another few hours. We're all meeting for lunch." His blood froze. When had she gotten so… powerful? How did he miss that? She had overcome her anxiety during this last year and become a solid member of their group, but he only now understood her reputation as an ice queen. He blamed Milan. He should have set the place on fire to set a proper precedent. Doors closed quietly behind him with all the finality of death.

He lasted 53 minutes before his tolerance snapped and the shop assistant trying to push another shirt on him 'accidentally' caught fire – somehow – maybe from the candle display of the other side of the shop. Rather than being horrified, Daphne looked annoyed with him. Ok, he thought, enough's enough. He'd allowed her to torture him for long enough. Everyone deserved a little fun, but he was no masochist.

Daphne had noticed Heri's patience slipping with every minute, and her sense of self-preservation warred with a curiosity to see how far she could push him. After living with him for a year, she knew that even though he was indeed the scariest person she'd ever met, he was also a good friend who tolerated much more from their group than from others, though she was actually surprised he'd almost lasted an hour. She was about to suggest they go to the next shop when she met his eyes. She broke contact after a second – too afraid to hold her nerve before that level of malice.

She heard him let out a long breath. "Let's get a drink." He said before walking towards the pub, and with shocking relief she followed, ignoring the growing scenes of panic behind them. The woman would be fine, well, she'd been horrifically burned, but she'd survive and Daphne suddenly felt she should be grateful it was her.

* * *

"Daphne, are you drunk?" Hermione asked with heavy disapproval. The blonde girl just laughed in response, before throwing an arm around her. "Who would even serve a twelve year old?" She snapped before looking at Heri, who looked away, whistling innocently. Her hangover would be vengeance enough.

Soon enough the whole crowd was together. At the request of Narcissa, Mr Malfoy had accompanied his son to the busy wizarding hub, but quickly dismissed himself to go about his own business, confident that his son was as safe with this motley crew as with anyone. Mr Weasley had also accompanied his sons, but was here to pick up a few last minute bargains with Ginny and Percy.

Nobody was really surprised when Heri led them all down Knockturn Alley, but Neville still spoke up. "Erm, Heri, are you sure this is safe." He wasn't convinced as he noticed a small group of men in large hoods watching them.

"Or course, why wouldn't it be?"

"We're all going to be sold as potion ingredients!" Daphne informed him merrily.

"Shush, you're being sloppy." Hermione chastised, causing an immediate reaction from the other girl, who straightened up in a badly executed display of propriety.

They went further and further down the creepy alley before reaching a battered door with peeling black paint and to everyone's dismay, Heri led them inside. The door opened to cold, uneven stone steps that spiralled down before opening up to a large candlelit restaurant. It was like someone had decided to open a business in a wine cellar.

A hunchbacked old man immediately approached them. "We don't host kids here!"

"I have a reservation." Heri informed, altogether unimpressed by the man's simple-mindedness in underestimating them. "Addams." It was a magic word that never ceased to open doors, and with widened eyes, the man quickly showed them to their table.

They settled into quiet conversation, casting wary eyes about because they weren't altogether convinced of their safety. The low lighting didn't help. It cast strange shadows that seemed to dance around them and there were far too many dark corners that could have been hiding anything.

Daphne didn't really notice any of this. She did however notice how Fred winced as he scanned the menu – for such an unfriendly looking place, the prices were ludicrously high.

She let out a very unladylike snort. "Don't worry." She said with a smile. "It's Heri's birthday meal; he's paying." Really, she thought, didn't they know even the basics? Disapproving looks were shared, while Draco laughed at the angry/embarrassed shade of red that bloomed across Ron's face.

"Talking about money is vulgar." Blaise reminded his blonde friend and soon everyone was laughing at her instead.

Herido just shook his head and by the time the appetizers arrived things had settled back down. Draco seemed very impressed with the caviar. That was, until Heri informed him it was actually eye of newt. The resulting revulsion was encouraging.

"So come on then, where have you been all summer?" George asked. They all wanted to know after all he'd initially said was that he'd been to Hell. They were sure he wasn't talking about an actual Hell. Well, pretty sure.

"Oh go on Harry, it can't be that bad!" Neville encouraged. Heri sighed as he viciously stabbed the belly of his lobster. Why did his friends want him to relive something like this? It was his birthday for crying out loud – hadn't he suffered enough already?

"My uncle got married." Well that wasn't what they were expecting. Wasn't that a good thing? "She was… rather like Daphne actually, a total psycho." The girl frowned as she tried to figure out if he was insulting or complimenting her. "Long story short, Wednesday, Pugsley and I were sent to summer camp. It was taxing."

To his surprise, everyone groaned.

"We all had bets on where you'd been." Hermione explained, and obviously nobody had guessed right. "Wait! Summer Camp?" She exclaimed, startling a few other patrons before quieting down, leaning forward. "Oh Heri, you weren't behind the Chippewa Tragedy, were you?" It had been all over muggle TV: a terrible accident with the generators resulted in a tragedy that had rocked America.

"They were bad people, Hermione." He tried to reassure.

"They couldn't have…"

"We made it count." He added ominously. Nobody felt comfortable with that smug look and so let the matter drop and the conversation quickly moved on.

The twins were planning to take their dad's flying car out for a joy ride. Heri's eyes lit up at that: a flying car sounded like a wonderful idea and he knew Pugsley would be annoyed he hadn't thought of it first.

"I can't believe I'm full." Ron said as he stared at his spoon, which was loaded with pudding. He was the last to finish and when he finally tossed his spoon down in defeat everyone let out a sigh of relief. By the gods that boy could eat.

Heri took out his wand and sent up gentle blue sparks before explaining that he was signalling for the bill.

"You do know you're not supposed to use your wand outside of school?" Fred asked, though the question felt redundant even in his own ears.

"Really?" The Addams seemed genuinely surprised to learn this.

"Didn't you read the notice we were given at the end of term?" Hermione asked.

"I thought they were joking." His friends were too full and had no energy to react to how ridiculous that reasoning was.

"Haven't the authorities been in touch?" Draco was curious – maybe there was a loophole.

"Why would they?" Heri answered before finally cottoning on to what Draco was talking about. "You don't imagine I kept that ridiculous monitoring charm, do you?"

"How did you get rid of it?" Fred and George were the ones to ask, but everyone leaned in to hear the answer. Herido couldn't believe they all still had it. Having a trace on his wand seemed too much like subjugation to Heri. He looked at Hermione.

"I'm surprised you at least didn't get rid of it. Haven't you been practising all summer?" She carefully explained that she couldn't, but would love to be able to, of course and so Heri decided to help them all. He was trying to teach them Dark Arts and had to sneak around to do it at school. If they couldn't practise in the privacy of their own home they would never get any stronger.

"Garrick removed them."

"Garrick?"

"Ollivander."

"Oh, well… we should probably wake Daphne." Draco said, even as he rose from his seat to get going.

And so the old wand maker found himself breaking several major laws over and over again that day. He never would have done it for anyone but an Addams, but he'd met the Addams patriarch last year after revealing what he knew of his son's identity and was certain he didn't ever want the man to return, so he'd do this for Herido's friends. Some good came out of it at least: he discovered two of the children using wands that hadn't chosen them, and after a serious reprimand had convinced them to buy their own.

As soon as they left the shop they were all shooting off all the harmless spells they could think of, with a giddy sense of freedom. Ok, so the first spell was followed by tense silence as they waited for the aurors to descend upon them, but once it became apparent no one was coming for them, they let loose. When a stray spell shot through a window of the flat above Scribbulus with a loud smash, all wands were hastily holstered and all nine of them filed into the book shop, suddenly eager to pick up Herido's books.

Heri was pleased to find the shop was no sanctuary. No, as soon as they stepped over the threshold they were almost knocked over by a brawling Lucius and Arthur.

"Dad?!" Four shocked voices chimed together. Draco looked to his red-headed friends before raising his chin.

"I mean, Father?!" The twins just laughed at him, he could be so cute sometimes.

It seemed their call had at least distracted the quarrelling men, as they parted and straightened up.

"Oh no, please, don't let us stop you." Heri encouraged, but it was too late. Mr Malfoy patted down his robes in an effort to regain some dignity.

"Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you." Heri could appreciate the malice in his eyes, but could also see Ron's muscles turning to steel as he prepared to attack. It seemed he hadn't quite got his impulse control issues in check.

"You really shouldn't judge people on such trivial matters, Lord Malfoy." Lucius was a mortified – not that it showed: not only had he been dragged into brawling like a muggle, Addams had seen it. Thankfully his mortification didn't last long as the boy continued. "You never know when you might find yourself in someone else's shoes." He faltered slightly at that look of promise in Herido's eyes, and in that moment he had no doubt the boy could make his words come true. He could hardly imagine a more horrific prospect.

"Good day to you all." Lucius swept from the shop.

He made it only half way down the alley before stopping to mentally curse at himself. He'd let that whole situation get away from him and now his thoughts were torn between trying to fix his mistake and wondering just how much trouble he could be in.

He'd come to the Alley to either sell or hide several objects of questionable purpose and origin on the off chance that his home was raided by the ministry. He hoped he had enough connections to be given a heads-up, but one could never be too careful. He left the object his Lord had trusted him with for last, loathe as he was to part with it, but Voldemort had said it was important and Lucius imagined he'd be in for a world of trouble if it were to be confiscated by fools like Arthur Weasley. He was planning on taking it to Gringotts and placing it in a secure vault, but when he'd seen the Weasley girl something inside him snapped. He remembered the haunting voice of Aeliana, how that wretched family had taken away her future and in a moment of what he would claim as temporary insanity he realised the perfect solution: giving Ginny Weasley the diary was as good as cursing her himself. The girl's very existence was an affront to him – some claimed her birth signalled the end of the feud, but he knew his father and grandfather would never have accepted that.

It was a mistake. His reaction was only so strong because the memory of seeing Aeliana was so fresh. But even so, to place the diary under the noses of a family of light wizards was unbelievably reckless. Perhaps he could make use of his son's friendship with the Weasley boys and have him or them retrieve it at school… Damn it! He thought. So much for getting his house in order.

* * *

xx


	3. Chapter 3

**I have a poll up for opinions on whether you'd prefer this to eventually be slash or het, and would be grateful if you could take part. Nothing serious will be happening any time soon.**

* * *

"Why Hermione, there's something different about you." Morticia noticed as she greeted the girl.

"Oh, well I had my teeth fixed?" She replied shyly.

"What a shame, you had such a delightfully unique look before." Uncle Fester never was one for tact. Hermione was a little mortified but was thankfully saved by Pugsley.

"They were only like that in the first place because her muggles didn't want to use magic to fix them." Well, that made her action much more acceptable. The idea of a muggle preventing a young witch taking advantage of what magic had to offer her was simply barbaric. Even if they didn't agree with her decision. Really, those teeth were the only thing giving her character!

The Malfoys soon made their way over, Lucius practically preening at the envious looks from his friends as he fell into conversation with the esteemed and feared family. Everybody else gave them a wide berth; even those families that reassured their children that they had nothing to fear weren't willing to put that theory to the test themselves.

"Ah, Lucius old boy, have you have met the charming Grangers?" Hermione supressed her moan – she'd told her folks she would be right back! Meanwhile the Malfoy Lord looked like he'd just been handed a pooper scooper and set to work.

He looked down in distain at the hand offered by Mr Granger and Draco held his breath. "No, I've not had the… pleasure." He made his distaste clear and neglected to take the offered hand, instead turning back to the Addams'.

Hermione frowned, but wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't ashamed of her parents, but she could acknowledge there was a difference between muggles and wizards. She was lucky to have been born a witch, but the fact was that she had been, that her parents had brought a witch into the world and they should be honoured for that, not treated like any other muggle – not that she thought less of muggles in general of course.

"Come now, haven't you heard of respect by association? Why, these muggles gave us the wonderful Hermione, who is a dear friend of ours." Heri's words sounded like a challenge, and Lucius cast another eye over the newcomers. He didn't see why giving birth to a mudblood should give them any special dispensation – if anything they should be further vilified. But then he also had to consider his current company, and Snape's warning not to underestimate any of these children. Maybe even a mudblood could show promise under the right circumstances. Besides, there was a hard look in Herido's eyes that made him feel uneasy and told him to tread carefully.

Narcissa was quicker to adapt to the situation – she was used greeting people she didn't particularly like; it was all part of her role as Lady Malfoy.

"How do you do, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger." She only held their hand for as long as was necessary so as not to cause offence. Lucius reluctantly followed his wife's example, telling himself that it hardly mattered who they were, greeting them was beneficial to his family and that was really all that mattered. It's not like he hadn't made beneficial arrangements with muggles in the past, but never in view of civilised society like this.

Wednesday watched the awkward exchange with amusement, though she was keeping an eye out for the Weasleys. Heri had told her about the scuffle between Lucius and Arthur and she wanted to bring the Weasley parents into this little meet and greet. It was already looking dicey, if she could just add them to the mix she was sure things would get interesting. There might even be fireworks.

Lucius gripped his walking stick more fiercely with each minute as he schooled his features and listened to the muggles share some of their more gruesome dental practices with the group, barely noticing the all too interested expressions of the Addams family.

When Hermione suggested they find seats before the train got too full, Heri sent Crabbe and Goyle ahead with the luggage to find somewhere, before gathering the others and suggesting the rest of them wait for the twins and Ron in King's Cross.

The pure bloods moaned when he dragged them to a muggle pizzeria, but became entranced as he told them the tale of how Fester became a widower and that was how the late-comers found them.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, red faced and out of breath.

"Pugsley told us you were out here." Fred said in a similar state.

"We need to hurry." Hermione looked down at her watch with a gasp at George's words. It was 11. They were going to miss the train!

Heri watched on with a sly smile as all his friends rushed from the restaurant in a panic, though he was amused to see Ron pause long enough to grab a couple of slices of pizza. He took his time, finishing his drink before standing and gathering up what appeared to be a large doctor's briefcase – they weren't going anywhere, he could afford to dawdle.

After a leisurely walk through the throngs of commuters, all of whom seemed to part for him, following some kind of lizard brain instinct to get out of his way, he did indeed find them still in the muggle station. Blaise appeared to have a broken nose and was scowling viciously at the wall.

"Heri!" Ron saw him first and took a hold of his arm – a wonderfully frantic look igniting his eyes. "We can't get through! What are we going to do?"

"Huh." Heri responded as though utterly baffled. Hermione shot him a strange look. "Well, it seems like we missed the train anyway." He tried to comfort them. Just before the others could round on him and moan about how bad the situation was, Wednesday and Pugsley walked to them, with the elder boy holding their baby brother.

"You could always just have someone apparate you." Wednesday suggested in a monotone, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Are you mad?" Ron cried, before actually processing her words. "That, that's… actually not a bad idea."

"Getting a train from London to Scotland is actually, probably the most laborious and wasteful method available." Hermione said with a frown, wondering why she'd never thought about it before. Wizards and witches from all over the British Isles must apparate or floo to London just to catch a train, why not go directly to Hogsmeade?

"But guys," Blaise interrupted the thoughtful silence. "If we can't get onto the platform, maybe our parents can't get out." His voice was nasally. Heri wanted to roll his eye: his parents were also on that platform – there was no way they would be trapped, especially as Pugsley had been the one to seal the entrance, but he didn't say anything as pointing this out wouldn't be conducive to his desired outcome.

"Well Pugsley could take us, or someone's elves, or, hey!" He said as if just remembering something, "Didn't you say something about a flying car?" He asked the Weasleys. "Seems like the easiest way to get us all there." Hermione narrowed her eyes at his light tone – what happened to apparition being the quickest method?

The Weasleys seemed happy with this development and a consensus quickly spread, but their excited chattering was interrupted.

"Herido Addams, what did you do?" Hermione demanded.

"Whatever do you mean?" She wasn't buying his confused act for a second.

"You did this on purpose just so you could have a go in their car!" She accused, furious at the position he'd put them in. When she heard Pugsley snicker, she rounded on the other Addams children too. "And you two as well. I imagine you were all in on this?" The three older siblings just smiled gleefully.

"Save it, Hermione." Draco advised. What's done was done, so they might as well make the most of it. Draco was curious to ride in a car, even a flying one, not that he'd be admitting it.

"Great, let's go." Pugsley said, turning to lead the way to where he somehow knew the car was parked.

"Wait, you're coming too?" Daphne asked. Those eerie smiles were the only reply she got. She was going to point out that their parents would be worried about where the other Addams children had gone, but decided that this kind of insanity was probably hereditary or learned behaviour at the very least.

And so they all piled into the magically expanded car: four Addams' in the front, with Heri driving, and everyone else in the back. The twins didn't have time to teach him how to make it fly before Heri had a go. He preferred learning on the go as nothing motivated you like impending death. The car skipped along the road for a few seconds before taking off, only to drop straight back down, nearly crashing into a building as it did.

The second attempt was more successful and nobody could suppress their gasps or whoops as they soared higher. Well, nobody but Hermione, who hated to fly and glared murderously at the back of Herido's head.

"We've been seen." Draco informed them with a grimace as he was looking at the world below, and the muggle that stared, dumbstruck before taking out his phone.

As George leaned forward and activated the invisibility booster, the Addams' shared a look.

"No, it's wasteful." Wednesday declared, shaking her head to some silent conversation.

"Not if it's necessary." Heri argued.

"Herido's right. Sorry sister mine." She growled while Heri just grinned and began to climb out of the window, not even blinking when the car started to plummet from his absence.

Immediately everyone in the back started to scream. In the front Pubert stood against the passenger side window, banging his hands against it as he babbled happily, watching the world fly past them. With a sigh Wednesday slid over to take control of the vehicle, while Heri stood with his feet on the window. Draco looked back down as the car circled back around, and didn't know what happened when the muggle suddenly fell to the ground, blood quickly pooling around him.

Wednesday slid back over when Heri re-entered the car, looking wholly unimpressed.

"A slingshot? Really?" Draco had no idea how she knew what he used – she wasn't even looking that way. Heri smirked.

"What? I though being hit by a small rock would be less suspicious than an arrow to the head." Those in the back would have agreed, but they were all quiet as they thought on what had just happened, that odd scratching making them uncomfortable as their conscious was challenged once more. Had Heri just killed a man for convenience? Was that ok or smart? They probably shouldn't have been surprised but they were. Thankfully, they were snapped out of their darkening thoughts when Pugsley lowered his window, and Pubert had already crawled half-way out when Hermione quickly leaned forward.

"Can I hold Pubert for a while?" She hastily asked, relieved when he was passed back. She wasn't exactly overjoyed to be watching the dangerous baby – a baby that had beaten Heri's record by making his first kill before he was even one – but everyone would gladly babysit if it saved him from falling to his death!

When it became apparent that the car wasn't going to crash and kill them all, everyone managed to relax and settled into all the talking and games they would have indulged in on the train. At various points a new driver took over and a cramped game of musical chairs ensued.

Heri moved into the back, watching with raised eyebrows as Ron tried to feed some of his sandwiches to his pet rat.

"They really let you have him as a pet? Even at Hogwarts?" He asked in honest disbelief. Ron just shrugged.

"I know, he's pathetic isn't he?"

"I'm not sure that's the word I'd use. Creepy, maybe." Ron raised his own eyebrows at that: Herido Addams thought a rat was creepy?!

"This is Scabbers. He's been in my family for years." Heri looked even more disturbed at this, but chose not to say anything more. He didn't like to judge, and if Ron wanted to keep him as a pet, he couldn't see any reason he shouldn't. But really! A grown man playing pet to a twelve year old, living in a school, in a dorm with a bunch of other young boys… Heri thought that was rather creepy. He could only hope the man had been forced to keep that form as a punishment of some kind and wasn't doing it voluntarily.

He finally settled back in his seat – setting his briefcase down in the foot well.

"Why didn't you put that on the train with the other luggage?" Fred asked.

"I didn't want the Hogwarts elves getting too close to it." It was only then Fred noticed how the briefcase shook every so often by itself. Heri noticed too and took out his wand, shooting what looked like a brief blast of electricity at the case before giving it a firm kick. It stilled after that, and Fred decided he didn't want to know, so turned to join a game of exploding snap.

* * *

Dumbledore had added to the castle's wards in preparation for the new school term. Events had gotten away from him last year: Quirrell, the Philosopher's Stone, a teacher murdered in self-defence, dark curses, traumatised children, trolls, and a dozen other mysteries that he attributed to his darkest student. Maybe it was unfair; maybe he was allowing legend to influence him, but he didn't think so – all of this had only happened after an Addams joined the school after all.

He buried his head in his hands, wondering whether he was getting too old for this. However with Harry Potter gone he was the last line of defence against Voldemort and therefore had to persevere. He couldn't decide whether Herido's actions at the end of term gave him hope or despair. He'd deduced that the fact a dark wizard would attack the Addams boy and that he killed that wizard was surely a good sign: a sign that he didn't brook the ideas of dark wizards in England. Then again he had killed Quirrell with seemingly no compunction or regret and that left the old wizard cold. And more importantly he still couldn't read how Herido would come into play, if at all, when Voldemort returned. Even at this young age the boy could be considered a valuable asset, but whether he was a white or black piece on the Headmaster's chessboard was yet to be seen. And there was always the possibility that the Addams' would react as they usually did and pull the boy out of school, considering themselves above such 'petty disputes'. That family always seemed to come out on top without lifting a finger.

The headmaster had made sure to seal all the secret passages out of Hogwarts. He normally allowed the odd student to get up to mischief, believing it all to be an important part of childhood, but decided that the price was too high if it meant Herido being able to come and go as he pleased. He'd also placed a stronger monitoring charm over the castle, one that would inform him if any significantly dark magic was used. He couldn't extend it to the Room of Requirement, so had increased the amount of portraits in the hallways and instructed them all to inform him of any suspicious activity – another thing he'd changed this year as he was hesitant to run the school like some fascist regime.

He'd also instructed Snape to keep a closer eye on his Slytherins, thought the man was obviously reluctant to agree. He supposed he'd just have to increase teacher and prefect patrols and hope for the best. Albus was confident he still had Snape's loyalty. He had never given up hope for Harry Potter, even after his death, but at that time the potions master had assured the old man of his continued allegiance, stating that nobody betrayed the Dark Lord and walked away with his life so he was sure that returning to his former master wasn't an option.

Still, every year that passed without any sign of Voldemort caused Dumbledore to worry more and more: had he missed something; was the man working from the shadows? No, he shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Proof of the man's dormancy was plain to see on Snape's arm. But then what on earth was he up to?

With another sigh he stood and prepared to apparate to London where he was expected at the ministry. Lately he didn't know which of his duties tired him the most.

* * *

"I'm telling you we won't make it!" Ron stressed as the car shuddered and strained under Pugsley's ministrations.

"Well, there's only one way to find out." The eldest boy said happily as he put his foot down – the car dipping and swaying as it set out over the dark lake. The Addams children looked gleeful and started making bets on how far they would get before the engine gave out, while the others held their breath and clung to any part of the car they could.

They just about made it to the other side of the lake. Heri let out a groan as the car finally lost momentum and handed Pugsley a shrunken head – it seemed he'd won the bet.

"We should probably abandon ship." Heri's tone was far too relaxed as they began to plummet, but nobody could do anything but watch as the oldest three Addams jumped out and fell to grass that seemed envelop them like a giant mattress. It didn't take long for everyone to follow their example, Daphne reaching over to grab the baby before making her own nerve-wracking leap.

Draco lay on his back, staring at the colourful evening sky, trying to calm his hammering heart and wondered why he had ever moaned about the Hogwarts Express. Hearing a loud crash he sat up to see what had become of the car, cringing as the metal buckled under a relentless beating from the weeping willow.

He caught sight of his godfather striding across the lawn and flopped back down – he was too relieved at still being alive to worry about being in any trouble.

 **I apologise for the delay and short chapter. I am hoping to get back to normal next week, all being well, but thought I should update in the meantime. xxxx**


	4. Chapter 4

Snape was being very helpful, well, in his own way. Heri was suspicious. And Wednesday noticed and in turn stared at the man with such a hard gaze that Snape felt the ice in her eyes freezing his very soul.

He'd dragged all the children into the privacy of his office before attempting to rip into them, but he could see the reprimand wasn't effective when it came to the Addams children. He'd only been in the company of the siblings for ten minutes or so, but he could already understand why Herido was so unconcerned about being challenged by any of the Hogwarts students: his brother and sister were just as dark and fearsome as him. He wondered how the Malfoys had survived having them stay over.

The other students looked sufficiently chastened when he spoke of how reckless and destructive their actions had been, Neville was even shaking a little, but Herido was just watching politely, Snape was avoiding Wednesday's gaze, and the oldest Addams boy didn't seem to be paying him any attention at all, instead Snape had to pay _him_ attention in order to prevent the boy from feeding the contents of several preservation jars to his baby brother.

Still, in the end he'd merely assigned detention to his own little snakes, informed that McGonagall would be seeing the Gryffindors about their punishment and said he would have to speak with the headmaster about sending the others back home.

Snape thought they were lucky not to have been seen, and that he had managed to get to them before Dumbledore, who he knew was itching to find a reason to expel Herido. Keeping _Harry_ at Hogwarts was in his own best interest though, not to mention that he was determined to discover why Quirrell had attacked him.

He was walking an incredibly dangerous line, one that was made all the more precarious while he his allegiances were undecided. He didn't see his story having a happy ending no matter what he chose, but was naturally inclined to side with the Dark Lord now that he knew Harry was dark. He couldn't keep flip-flopping and he was so drawn to the dark that his Lord simply couldn't be denied. However, he could never completely forgive Voldemort for murdering Lily and if for reasons he couldn't imagine (such as the reason Quirrell attacked), he set himself against the boy he'd sworn to protect, Snape would be compromised once again. It was always best to know what challenges lay ahead.

By the time Snape had finished with them, the train had arrived and Heri and his friends and family joined the rest of the school in the Great Hall at the insistence of the Weasleys, who wanted to be there for their sister's sorting. Pugsley was looking forward to comparing the Hogwarts welcoming feast to his own school's anyway.

"And what's your judgement?" Heri asked his brother when dessert appeared.

"A good enough variety, well, for a school anyway. The chicken could have used a bucket or two of belladonna sauce though." Heri agreed, Wednesday commented that she now understood why Herido had taken all of their Henbane with him to school this year, and the others just looked on with concern.

"And do they serve… belladonna sauce at Ilvermorny?" Blaise asked doubtfully.

"Of course." Pugsley replied. "They just don't know it."

Even with the buzz created by the presence of Heri's family, the evening had proceeded much more peacefully than last year. Ginny Weasley had indeed been sorted into Gryffindor. Heri couldn't read her with the hall full of students around, but hoped he could make use her hopefully powerful curse-breaking blood at some point. Daphne's baby sister had joined her in Slytherin. The only other student to capture Heri's attention was a blonde name Lovegood, and if her name wasn't bad enough, the girl was blindingly 'light'. He could see her magic even through the throng of students, like a torch shining in the dark. Maybe he could use her in a sacrifice one day – he'd have to get a closer look. There was always the possibility Dumbledore had brought her in to balance against his own influence. Heri shuddered.

As soon as Heri had sat down in the great hall he'd been handed a note instructing him and his family to go to the headmaster's office as soon as they were finished with dinner, so naturally they'd taken their time.

Finally though they made their way to the old coot.

"Ah. Mr Addams," Dumbledore greeted, indicating for the children to sit down whilst taking his own seat. Wednesday set Pubert down and he immediately made his way further into the office to explore. "It's a pleasure to meet you both." He added to Wednesday and Pugsley. A small smirk flitted across Heri's face, he imagined the old man was feeling anything but pleasure at the current situation. "I'm sure you know why I asked you to meet with me tonight."

"I can't imagine." Pugsley snickered at Heri's response and the old man took a moment to observe these dangerous children. The eldest boy must have been around 15 or so, but looked mature for his age; he was tall and solidly built and gave off an air of being completely relaxed and at ease, and if the look in his eye was anything to go by he found the powerful old wizard rather amusing. The young girl was petit, with a soulful gaze that he found difficult to turn away from. Her eyes were as dark as the long plats of her hair and he wondered from where in the family Herido had acquired his emerald greens.

"Pubert, we do not eat people's pets!" Dumbledore was torn from his musings to swing around in his seat, fearing for Fawkes' safety. His eyes fell on the baby, sitting in a pile of ashes with a newly reborn Fawkes in his little hands. He blanched – it was nowhere near Fawkes' burning day.

Before he could stand to retrieve his bird, Herido spoke once more:

"So what is this about, professor?" Heri didn't want the man anywhere near his baby brother. With a resigned sigh, Dumbledore turned back to deal with the situation. It suddenly felt like it had been a very long day and he just knew this year would be as trying as the last.

"You are here, of course, to discuss the method of transport in which you chose to arrive this evening. I feel I must impress upon you the seriousness of what you have done…" but before he could say any more the girl stood.

"Good luck, brother." And with that she stepped around her chair as though she was leaving, and Pugsley stood to follow.

"Children," Dumbledore called them to attention, "Where are you going?"

"It sounded like you were about to berate us: as you are the headmaster of Herido's school he is obligated to listen to you, but we are not." Wednesday said in an even, emotionless tone – as though she were not a ten year old girl dismissing the authority of arguably the strongest wizard in Britain. "And besides, we have already had to endure this from your potions master. "

Dumbledore was stunned for a moment before he told them to sit down in a rather commanding tone. Apparently the siblings didn't take kindly to that.

Herido stood and was joined by the others, and when the three turned to look at the headmaster the air became heavy and the room itself seemed to darken. He felt a twinge of fear – not because he didn't think he could deal with these children, but because it occurred to him for the first time that he didn't know what they were capable of. There was darkness and perhaps even a gleam of excitement in their eyes that put him on edge. He glanced across to the more familiar gaze of Herido, but regretted it immediately. Dumbledore suddenly found himself surrounded by a dozen faces, screaming not an inch from his head, and the screams were gut-wrenching; the type that tore vocal cords and never stopped until lungs collapsed. They were screams that originated from the very soul and even though it must have only lasted a second or two, he was left shaken.

He barely had a chance to gather himself when the eldest boy spoke.

"Perhaps you didn't understand my dear sister, Mr Dumbledore. You see, she just gave Herido her commiserations," he said while holding the man's eyes steadily, "and she told you to go fuck yourself." The aged wizard was speechless. Never in all his many years of teaching had he been spoken to like this by a child, never mind whatever it was that Herido had done, and his mind raced to consider a response. They were right in that he could not punish them, but surely he could expect respect – Herido had never been impolite. If only he could prove they had broken the law… no, he shook his head, he couldn't think like that either. Pugsley was indeed usually more cordial, but this was the man who left his kid brother with those awful muggles and he had no patience for him.

"Mr Addams," Dumbledore began, his voice still strong, "I have offered your family shelter and sanctuary until we can contact your parents, and I would appreciate at least a basic courtesy in return."

Pugsley shared a brief look with Heri, who gave a miniscule nod, and then gave his own terse nod to the headmaster. He wanted to point out that he could simply apparate them all away, but decided against it, knowing there would be objections about him not having a British licence and being underage and the like and that was boring. They would much rather spend a night in this grand old castle anyway.

"Great." Dumbledore decided to deal with the situation as soon as possible. "Now, if you could tell me where your parents are staying, I will be sure to contact them immediately to come pick you up."

"They were planning to take a meal at Hibiscus, though by now they may well have returned home."

"My dear boy, surely they wouldn't have left the country without you." Albus stayed calm as he tried to reason with the boy. He didn't like where this was going.

"Why not?" Wednesday asked.

The man thought the answer to that should be fairly obvious: "Well, I know them to be concerned, involved parents – good parents – and your absence won't have gone unnoticed."

"Our parents trust us, headmaster." Heri said with a smile. "And they are confident that we will ask for help if we need it." Dumbledore wasn't sure how to respond.

"And, and how do you contact them?" He asked eventually, but got nothing but silence in response. "A pair of mirrors, perhaps?" More silence. "Well, do you know the floo address of the restaurant?" Perhaps he could catch them before they left.

"It's a muggle restaurant."

In the end it was decided that the Addams children would spend the night. Dumbledore had initially offered to put them up in an empty teacher's room, but they insisted on staying in the dorms with their brother, and as luck would have it, Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode had been taken ill and had to spend the night in the hospital wing, leaving a spare bed for both Pugsley and Wednesday. Pubert could sleep in a drawer.

* * *

"I'm not trying to spoil your fun!" Hermione protested. "It's just that I already have a plan for her and you are going to ruin it!" At midnight Heri came down to the common room to find Hermione arguing with his sister. His respect for the muggleborn grew. Apparently Wednesday wanted to punish Pansy for her blatant disrespect but Hermione had stopped her – it was never a good idea to come between Wednesday and her prey.

He walked over to the girls and was soon joined by Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Pugsley.

"Perhaps I could give you a tour of the local area. There is still much of the Forbidden Forest to explore, or if you like I could show you the local wizard population. It could be fun." The look of interest on Wednesday's face was extremely discomforting.

"You have a slave out here, don't you?" She asked eagerly. Heri nodded and made his way to the exit.

"I do. A witch – I forget her name – she keeps Ron's pray frozen until he's ready to cut a bit off." Daphne just about managed to hold in a gag at the image his words presented. "I did offer her services in preparing his meals and shakes, but he insists on doing his own cooking." He stopped talking as he stepped into the corridor outside the common room, only to be faced with a wall of portraits that were not there earlier in the evening.

His friends all questioned his intentions when he passed out handfuls of senbon, but quickly cottoned on when Pugsley threw a spear (and where on earth had _that_ come from?), at the nearest portrait. Instead of tearing at the fabric however, the weapon phased into the painting and proceeded to impale the aged old man to his high backed chair. As soon as the other portraits started to protest the children flew into action all at once, making short work of disabling, literally, Dumbledore's poorly thought out monitoring system.

Heri looked across, intrigued to see Daphne's look of concentration as she pushed a senbon through the shoulder of a middle aged woman. She was more motivated by curiosity about how the solid metal object disappeared into the painting than by any sadism, but it was interesting to note that the blonde didn't seem at all put off by the poor, weeping woman and the obvious pain she was causing.

Their fun over for the time being, and taking care not to wake any more portraits, it wasn't long until they came across their next obstacle: it seemed the old fool had sealed off all the secret tunnels from the castle. That could become a problem. Could have been a problem, that is, were it not for the fact that Pugsley was here, Heri thought as he looked into the calculating eyes of his older brother.

"I'll need the night." Heri nodded in response to Pugsley and led the others away, leaving Wednesday to explain what was going on.

"Pugsley is very accomplished in the art of tunnelling. We think he might be part gopher."

"You mean he's going to create another passageway? In one night?!" Hermione didn't share Draco's doubts and so changed the subject.

"Well, what shall we do instead then?" That small part of her brain that still believed in fairy tales hoped the answer would be 'hey, let's all just go to bed so we are well rested for class tomorrow', but that part didn't have much sway over her reasoning skills and so it came as no surprise when Wednesday suggested they summon spirits – after all, Hogwarts was ancient and likely full of grizzly deaths.

Heri however dismissed the suggestion, stating that the school had too many ghosts that would interfere with the process.

"Can you summon one spirit specifically?" Hermione asked, intrigued by the prospect, despite the dread it filled her with. After receiving a positive reply she braced herself and continued. "Well, couldn't we summon Voldemort? I mean, he's a spirit isn't he?" The muggleborn had a few questions for the Dark Lord and this seemed like the safest option to ask she'd ever get.

Wednesday's glare quickly dashed her hopes.

"If Lord Voldemort can be contained by a mere summoning circle I will be sorely disappointed." The girl spoke as though the very idea of it had ruined Halloween forever.

"Besides it would be sort of pathetic if he needed help or something." Heri's displeasure was as obvious as his sister's.

In the end they settled on finding out how long mermen could survive out of water and a lively debate about what potions they could create with various merman parts, and whether Ron would notice the difference in meat.

* * *

Dumbledore hadn't given any indication of what the visitors were to do whilst they waited to be picked up, and so the next morning Snape waited for them in the Slytherin common room to suggest they might like to experience what a Hogwarts education was like. Heri and his siblings appeared with minutes to go before the start of lessons, but they all agreed it was a good idea and so Pugsley joined his own year and Wednesday joined the first years. Snape took a deep breath as they left, trying not to wonder about how they knew where to go. He hadn't meant for them to split up. All the teachers would have to be extra vigilant today, and for his own well-being he would probably avoid the staff room.

Herido's first period was with his friends from both houses and so passed rather quickly. On the balance the professors liked this arrangement, as it was the first time they could recall that classes shared by Slytherin and Gryffindor had been so calm. All the other students tended to tread carefully when almost all of Heri's gang was present and so the only distraction to their teaching generally came from Heri himself, or the occasional snappy arguments that broke out between his friends.

In addition to the good (but exhausted), company, Heri had also appreciated the subject matter of the lesson and had spent a great deal of time trying to make his mandrake scream loud enough to penetrate the protective earmuffs of his classmates.

"Aren't you worried they might hurt you?" Neville asked seriously.

"Death by mandrake?" Heri questioned with a shake of the head. "That would never happen to an Addams." He was sorry Wednesday wasn't here. He was sure the chorus of little plants would have been music to her ears.

The only thing wrong with Herbology was the out of character and therefore highly noticeable absence of one Hermione Granger. Heri was actually a little worried – he doubted even the forces of Infernus could keep his book smart friend away from class.

His concern grew when he reached DADA and she was still nowhere to be seen, but put it out of his mind, believing she could handle herself, at least for now, when he had his own tribulations to deal with.

Gilderoy Lockhart was… painful. Heri wondered if this wasn't in fact some clever form of torture implemented by the headmaster. If nothing else he could already tell that his self-control was to be tested like never before this year.

When the ridiculous excuse for a teacher gave out an equally ridiculous pop quiz, Heri decided he would simply have to have some fun with it, otherwise his patience wouldn't last the hour, never mind the year.

Blaise looked across, hoping to share his own displeasure but was disturbed to see Herido eagerly writing away as though he knew all the answers.

 _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?_ The cold white expanse of oblivion that will be all he yearns for.

 _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_ To die a quick and painless death – unrealistic.

 _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_ Ask again in an hour – I'm sure he'll have topped it.

Heri was actually finding this exercise quite therapeutic.

 _When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_ Irrelevant. His deathday will be the more significant, though his ideal gift would probably be the aforementioned secret ambition.

Satisfied with his answers, he proudly signed his name and waited for his paper to be collected.

The calming effect of the quiz didn't last long, and as the man, who was offensive to Heri's very being, simpered and winked and simply oozed self-love and self-satisfaction while he went through the quiz, Heri had to remind himself that murdering his professor in front of so many witnesses was foolish – even if it was the morally correct thing to do.

When Lockhart finally came across his paper, Heri was already steeling his emotions. He would have fun, but not the slashy-killy type, not yet.

"Ah, Mr Addams." That smile would terrorize his nights for weeks to come. "I know having such a well-liked and famous professor is overwhelming, but you really needn't go to so much trouble to get my attention." The man was insane. He did at least have the grace to pale slightly as he scanned some of Heri's more colourful answers before trying to find something safer to comment on.

"Ah, I can see from your answer to question three that you are a fan, but I assure you, as inspiring as you will find my class, nothing within this hour will exceed my previous accomplishments."

Heri grinned that grin of his, the one that put the other students on edge. "But you already have, professor." At the man's confusion he continued. "Up until today I would say that your greatest achievement is your ability to manipulate others for you own gain." He stood to add a little drama, "but today you've allowed me to experience something truly harrowing. I came here for an education, but it seems this has been denied. But know this: I shall not submit. I shall conquer. I shall rise." His voice was low and dangerous and reverberated into Lockhart's core. "My name his Herido Addams," His gaze was unyielding. "And I have seen evil. I have seen horror. I have seen the unholy maggots which feast in the dark recesses of the human soul." The room was silent, so silent that Lockhart's gulp was clearly heard by all and Heri continued in a voice barely above a whisper. "I have seen all this, professor. But until today, I had never seen… you!"

The professor stood stone still and wide eyed, trying to formulate words while Heri retook his seat, satisfied for now. He was saved from responding to the boy Dumbledore had warned him of and who was so far living up to his reputation, when an explosion somewhere in the castle shook the entire DADA classroom. The students cried out in shock at the loud noise that jarred so violently with the previous silence.

Daphne turned in her seat to look at Heri, who sniffed the air and then raised his eyebrows. "Too much sulphur." He said, almost to himself. He mused that Pugsley must have been up all night working on his new tunnel to have made such a rookie mistake.

"Pugsley," Was all he said to his friends by way of explanation, but that seemed to be enough.

"He's going to blow himself up!" Draco cried.

"I hope not!" Heri looked concerned. "He still has the shrunken head of our Amazonian uncle." He sighed. "But what can you do? Que sera sera."

The explosion had been a sufficient distraction for Lockhart to gather himself, and once the dust had settled he carried on with his lesson plan, taking care to avoid Herido Addams.

Heri was mildly impressed when the inept man set a cage full of pixies loose on the class and chaos immediately ensued. The first casualties fell to Daphne. The girl had being eying the creatures carefully, but when two grabbed hold of her hair she acted on instinct and swung a book at them, and when they fell onto her desk she followed up with another swing, squashing the unfortunate creatures flat. The dozens of other pixies abandoned their previous shenanigans and turned to her. Ever so cautiously, she rose from her seat and walked backwards to Herido's desk, on which she perched without a word. Heri just looked on.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing at all." Daphne responded, suddenly carefree again as she ran her fingers through her hair to correct any damage from the little pests. It was only then that he noticed how the pixies kept a respectable distance from him. Daphne wasn't stupid.

Lockhart looked on in confusion at the strange behaviour of his mischievous teaching aides. He jumped when one of the windows shattered.

"There." Heri said with a dramatic wave of his arm. "Freedom or death – your choice." However he didn't hear their response, as his eyes fell on what was sure to be the start of a great forest fire at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Excuse me." He said to no one in particular as he rose and proceeded to leap straight through the now open window, unconcerned with the escalating chaos he was leaving behind.

He only just managed to contain his sneer when he reached the forest to find Dumbledore had beaten him to it and was already holding his baby brother. The fire was doused.

"Out for a stroll, headmaster?" He asked as though there was nothing wrong with the situation and he wasn't surrounded by the charred skeletons of trees.

Dumbledore tried to ignore the child pulling at his beard, less than a day into the Addams children's stay and already at his wits end. He took a deep breath.

"Mr Addams, you really should have said if you needed someone to watch your brother." He tried for a stern tone but Heri easily batted away the man's criticism.

"He was being watched." He stepped aside to reveal Kounna, curled up and sleeping contentedly on a rock that seemed to still be scorching hot from the fire.

Sometimes, when in the company of this boy, Dumbledore questioned his own sanity. If nothing else, he didn't think Herido was half as bad as he thought him to be yesterday. As bad as last year had been, he realised now it could have been so much worse.

"Could you perhaps reign in your siblings?" He attempted a lighter tone this time, but couldn't disguise how strained the words were. He wasn't really expecting a positive response and so wasn't disappointed when he got none at all. He had only just finished making sure no one was seriously injured following Pugsley's actions in Arithmancy class when he noticed the fire. "Where's your sister?" He asked, suddenly concerned at what she could possibly be up to.

The way Herido's eyes lit with excitement filled him with further dread.

"It is awfully quiet, now you mention it." Heri commented with a tilt of his head.

Dumbledore looked incredulous. Quiet?

"You should probably find her." Heri nodded to himself. "Quickly." The old man opened his mouth to question what he meant, so he continued once more. "Unless of course the school is low on funds or something, in which case let her be, and I'm sure by the end of the day your resources won't have to stretch as far."

The Headmaster believed him and hastily turned to find the girl, momentarily forgetting about the babe in his arms. He only made it a few paces before he stopped at the smell of burning hair. Heat followed immediately and he looked down to find his beard on fire, the small unusual boy giggling madly. After snuffing out the second fire of the day he went back to hand the child to Herido, who was watching with a small smirk.

Turning to leave once more, he consciously ignored the words that softly reached him.

"Would you like a ride on a centaur, Pubert? Perhaps mother will let you keep one…"

* * *

He tracked down the first year Slytherins quickly enough, but was momentarily taken aback when he opened the door to the charms classroom.

Professor Flitwick was sound asleep at his desk, and Wednesday Addams and Astoria Greengrass were at the front of the room, the latter laughing about something while the younger girl held a black cat to her chest, petting it kindly.

They were the only people there – the rest of the room was full of chickens. Chickens, and piles of clothes.

Maybe it was time he retired.

"Miss Addams, please tell me those are not students." What the hell was wrong with these dark children?

"Those are not students." The girl obediently replied in monotone. He sighed, reminding himself that they would be leaving this evening, when he'd been assured someone would come to pick up the extra children.

* * *

During dinner that evening, the hall was abuzz with talk of the day's events. Stories of the Addams children's exploits were already being exaggerated and glorified. Heri, his friends and siblings were in good spirits. Astoria's cat didn't have chance to eat any of her year mates, and his friends had had a great time dealing with the pixies. Hermione had brushed off questions about her absence that day, but Heri didn't fail to notice the ash on her eyebrow or how she smelled of smoke. He gave a sly glance across to Pugsley, who was in hushed, but heated discussion with the Weasley twins.

Altogether Pugsley and Wednesday had enjoyed their stay. It wasn't until after dinner, when they were in a secluded corner of the Slytherin common room that they were finally summoned to the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was exhausted by the time his guest arrived, so much so that he didn't even have the energy to wonder what on earth this 'cousin Itt' was. All that mattered to him was that he was obviously acquainted with the children and took them away. Far, far away… to a different country… a different continent. He felt years older than he had this morning, but he smiled as he thought about the ocean between him and that cursed family.

 **xx**


	5. Chapter 5

Snape, master of stoicism, didn't even try to contain his snort after casting his eyes over Addams and his band of misfits. Whether it was a snort of amusement or of disbelief couldn't be determined.

Sat amongst the usual throng of black, grey and the odd subdued green and silver sat Ronald Weasley, outfitted in the garish getup of the Gryffindor quidditch uniform. From his place at the head table it was an offensive blight on the Slytherin table, but apart from a few disapproving glances here and there, none of his snakes seemed to have any problem with it, or at least they weren't showing it if they did.

"Why do you look like you got cursed again?" Blaise asked, warily taking in Ron's terrified stare, slightly green hue and most telling, his untouched plate of bacon and eggs.

"He's bricking it that he won't make the team." Draco informed cruelly as he helped himself to porridge, making an obvious display of how confident he was about making it through his own house's trials. "Naturally, he just doesn't have the raw talent needed."

Hermione let out a laugh. "Actually, Ronald _naturally_ has speed, stamina and reflexes that you could only dream of." Before Malfoy had a chance to respond Fred joined in.

"Exactly; when he becomes keeper it'll be down to his ability to fill the position, unlike a certain sneaky Slytherin who already knows he'll get his way because his team's captain is petrified of what Heri will do to him if he rules against you!"

Draco sniffed. "If I had any idea what you're talking about, I might take offence to that." Even Neville sniggered at his dramatically feigned ignorance. "And besides, I prefer to think of it as forethought and cunning; that I was able to make myself so integral to the team's success last year that the only smart move is to let me play." Most of his friends broke down in tears of laughter at that. Heri was inclined to agree with Draco though – he couldn't begin to imagine why he'd even come into consideration concerning Flint's choice of teammates.

Draco scowled furiously at his friends' mirth, until George laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry though," The twin added with a dangerous look in his eye, "You forget the most important reason that little Ronnikins will succeed: if he doesn't make the team he won't make it to curfew." Ron's brothers were still holding him responsible for Gryffindor's loss last year. He had eaten their captain after all. The blonde did actually feel better at hearing that, and at seeing how Ron seemed to shrink with the words. The Weasley twins had a rather charming sadistic side that he was sure would be directed at their little brother if he didn't make up for last year.

"Well Ron," Draco was instantly back to his overconfident self, "I'm sure your current incongruity is a sure fire way to inspire faith in your lame lions."

Ron finally looked up. "Actually, I'm planting a flag." He leaned forward and tapped the table. "Right here in the centre of the snake pit." The other Gryffindors present whooped at his response and started talking nonsense about psychological warfare.

Heri had had enough of Quidditch talk. As a rule he wasn't even usually awake for breakfast, but this morning had been all but dragged from his bed by a carelessly overzealous Draco. If it wasn't for Herido's incredible speed his dorm mate would have lost an arm at the very least. He stood to leave.

"Wait!" Draco cried. "You're going?" He asked at the same time Ron voiced his own disbelief and distress at his friend's apparent lack of care.

"You aren't coming to the try-outs?" Heri paused to look at them both.

"Why would I? You're both going to make the teams." And with his assured declaration they felt a weight lift, as though they had passed already. When Heri continued out of the Great Hall Ron eagerly picked up his fork, and Draco went back to bickering about Quidditch with the twins.

The first week back had passed with little incident – after the departure of the Addams children at least, and Dumbledore reaffirmed his belief that if he was to be burdened by one of those children, he'd take Herido over the others. Ok, so Flitch had discovered the massacred portraits, but Dumbledore supposed that it was at least nothing that could do any further damage to his reputation, which had taken hit after hit last year; if he didn't have such a good standing before, he was sure his name would be irrevocably in the gutter by now. He would make certain that no students or staff got murdered this year – that seemed like an achievable ambition.

He had a niggling concern about the absence of the Carrow twins, but tried not to let it bother him. Their family were hardly known to respect the rules after all. The two girls were first years and had only been there one night when they disappeared: He'd received a letter from their father stating that his daughters had been collected following a family tragedy and would be absent for a week and Albus didn't think anything of it, as he knew Amycus Carrow was an enemy that wouldn't want to meet with the leader of the Light if he could help it.

The fact that they'd had an altercation with the Granger girl, and therefore Addams and his friends the night they left had to be a coincidence.

* * *

Blaise was sent to free Hestia and Flora Carrow who had been resting and recuperating on the cold stone floor for the last day. For most of the previous week they'd been chained, hands high above their heads, pulled taught so they were forced to stand on their tip toes and a Heretic's Fork strapped to their throats.

At first Blaise had been underwhelmed by the muggle device and the thought crossed his mind that Herido might be losing his touch, however it only took a few hours to convince him otherwise. The forks were made from long pieces of rusty iron and had two sharp points on each end, forcing the wearer to keep their head as far back as they could in order to prevent impaling their lower jaw or sternum. They couldn't even protest or beg, as any movement of their jaws would result in nasty jagged cuts. They were forced to maintain the position they were chained in, straining their muscles beyond the limit, and they couldn't even escape into sleep, because the second they lost consciousness their heads would loll forward and the abrupt pain would easily wake them. No, there was no escape from the seemingly never ending torment.

After the girls had verbally attacked Hermione only minutes after arriving in the Slytherin common room, Blaise knew something would have to be done, and Heri's reasoning actually made sense. At first their dark friend had been annoyed at the idea that this petty bigotry surrounding pureblood doctrine would be something he'd have to deal with every year, but Blaise knew that most Pure Blood families had been warned about the Addams child's view on the subject and so even the newer students were careful about espousing any contrary views around him. However, he also knew that they'd always face a problem from families like the Carrows, so Heri's solution was pretty smart: to subliminally convince the Slytherin students – even those from the darkest or most stubborn families – that holding muggleborns in contempt on principle alone was foolish, that it would only result in pain and suffering. And so he'd chained the girls on either side of the common room exit to be seen by all as an example. However Herido knew he still wasn't powerful enough to act so boldly and so Pugsley had assisted in unleashing a powerful charm, one of several spells his parents had prepared for him, that allowed the subject of the charm to be seen, but immediately forgotten the moment they were out of sight, thus leaving the thought processes intact, but the memory wiped clean. It was impressive magic. All of those who saw the suffering of the Carrow twins would feel a deep fear, or sadness, or dread at the thought of spouting their doctrines, or in fact that their doctrines were wrong, but they wouldn't know why.

He crouched down to make sure their wounds had healed before unchaining them, trying his best to ignore the frightened cries. They weren't even a full year his junior, but he couldn't help but see them as tortured little girls and he was glad their punishment was over. He accepted that it was for the best if Heri's plan worked and they faced less prejudice, because at school his friends were more important than anything and he wouldn't have one of their own looked down on. But still, he was only just getting his head around the possibility of hurting adults and this was a step too far, a step too soon for his conscience to completely accept and it concerned him a little that Herido, Hermione, Draco and even Daphne hadn't flinched at the girls' harsh treatment. Perhaps he was just making a bigger deal of this than it was, he thought with a sigh, before explaining their cover story.

* * *

Later the following week while walking with the other Slytherins to History of Magic Heri smirked when he saw Lockhart walking towards them down the corridor, only to freeze when he caught sight of the fearsome boy and hastily turn to retreat in the opposite direction. It was really too easy, and unfortunately he doubted that the Defence teacher would be trying to kill him this year.

Heri and his friends rounded a corner and came across Astoria Greengrass and Ginny Weasley in the middle of a heated exchange. He smiled: this could prove awkward, it was just a shame his Gryffindor friends weren't present.

As the girls spat vicious insults back and forth, he took the opportunity to study Ginny's magic. It was as predominantly light as Ron's had been this time last year, but he was surprised at the Dark shadow that encompassed it. What had the girl been up to?

"Daphne!" Astoria cried when she caught sight of her sister. "You can't really expect me to put up with, with this?" She gestured to the red head, who was looking a lot more subdued now she too had noticed the older Slytherins. The Carrow twins had also paled a little and backed away from Astoria when she stepped up them.

The Greengrass' were more inclined to neutrality than Heri's other Slytherin friends, and so it had been easier for the sisters to accept the new dynamic than most, but that didn't account for personality clashes.

"You don't have to put up with anything." Daphne said dismissively before turning her renowned icy glare to Weasley. "What did you do to my sister?"

Heri was encouraged to see the fire in Ginny's eyes reignite at the accusation, though she was still clearly uncomfortable about being surrounded and outnumbered.

"I didn't do anything!" She defended. "I just pointed out how surprised I was to learn just _who_ my brothers' friends were!" They had warned her about their ties with many Slytherin students, but she couldn't believe they were such close friends with most of the children her parents had warned her about and she worried about them associating with a family as dark as Addams. The only thing preventing her from breaking her promise not to tell her folks was Tom. After getting to know the old Slytherin prefect, she knew not to trust stereotypes and that looks could be deceptive – after all, Tom was clever and understanding and nothing like she'd imagined a Slytherin to be – and he'd convinced her to give them a chance.

Her main problem with Astoria was that she could be a nasty superficial bitch when she wanted to be!

"What's wrong with them?" Her year mate asked.

"You tell me!" She shot back immediately and Heri sighed, thinking maybe he should have the twins take a more direct approach in tackling the Light's own prejudices – at this point the Darker students were almost more open minded than the Light.

He was considering handcuffing the two girls together when Snape interrupted.

"Miss Weasley! Five points from Gryffindor for loitering in the halls." He called, seemingly blind the mass of Slytherins also present.

It was only after most students had cleared the area, which they had done hastily following their dark professor's arrival, that he turned his attention to his most troublesome snakes.

"You will all be serving detention with me this evening. Inform your Gryffindor _friends_ and be at potions room one at seven sharp." And with that said he turned and stalked from them before they could even respond.

Heri wondered what was going on with the man. They had never really resolved whatever it was that was causing Snape to act so hostile last year, but had instead settled into an understanding that they would act as though nothing was any different. Heri didn't particularly care as long as the man didn't draw unwanted attention.

At five to seven, Snape waited for the band of dangerous children, wondering what on earth he'd been thinking in volunteering himself to oversee their punishment. There had been much discussion on who would conduct their detentions, but none of the teachers were happy to watch the children without at least one other teacher present. He would have scoffed, but supposed he could understand their apprehension: Hagrid had yet to return to the school as he was still in St. Mungo's, having to be kept alive by mediwitches until a counter curse could be found, or until the half giant finally acquiesced to letting them create a new mouth. After listening to his concerned co-workers, he'd made the rash decision to volunteer under the reasoning that most of the delinquents were his responsibility and that he could use them to clean up the mess left by the incompetent first years.

He was a little suspicious when the nine children set about scrubbing the room without magic as directed. Even his entitled godson didn't protest at being forced to do such a lowly task, in fact they all chatted amongst themselves merrily as they went about their punishment. He wouldn't usually allow this of course, but for his own sake he just ignored them and resigned himself to reading through the abysmal attempts at essays from his fourth year students, knowing that in the end it would be more prudent to simply let them get on with it.

It only took an hour before the room was once again starting to look fit for human habitation. When an overwhelming smell of muggle bleach reached him, he glanced up to inspect their progress, but soon wished he hadn't. His attention was first drawn to the three Weasleys, who were sitting on each other's shoulders with Ronald at the top… whichever twin was at the bottom was running madly between the desks, while Ron held a damp cloth to the ceiling, removing any remaining specs of brain matter. Across the room Greengrass, wearing plastic goggles, an apron and her hair secured safely within some sort of plastic bag – all of which he was certain were nowhere to be found in this castle – was polishing the tables with a muggle device, which was silent, but obviously working if the fine powder falling to the floor was any indication… he was pretty sure that wasn't in the utility closet either. Longbottom was following her work with a small hand-held vacuum device, and Zabini seemed to be waxing the desks afterwards. Draco and Addams were sitting on the floor nearer the sinks, using simple tools to repair any damaged chairs. How his godson knew how to do such a thing, he had no idea. Finally, Granger was stacking up the first year's cauldrons after getting them good as new. He'd never seen this room looing so good.

He floundered for a moment before finding his voice.

"Everyone stop!" He commanded in a dark, annoyed tone, which only resulted in mild confusion on the faces of the students.

"But we aren't finished." Draco said. Snape pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, trying to relieve the oncoming headache.

"I instructed you to clean the room by hand."

"No professor," Herido answered straight away, "You told us to clean the room the muggle way." The man took a deep breath and was about to respond when Granger suddenly spoke up.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, looking at the potions master eagerly. It was a look that made him nervous. "Of course! Snape could teach us." She said, turning her attention to the boys sat near her, before remembering the man was right there and turning back with a light blush, "I, I mean, I wondered, professor, if you might be amenable to, erm, some extracurricular tutelage."

"Hermione that's a fine idea." Heri turned his smirk to Snape. "After all, you used to serve the Dark Lord professor, surely you know a thing or two about the Dark Arts?" Snape stood abruptly.

"How dare you…"

"It's ok, uncle." Draco interrupted. "We just feel our knowledge of Dark magic is woefully lacking." Dark wand magic, at least, as Heri only knew the basics his mother had taught him – an education that he hadn't been able to continue this last summer.

Snape stood speechless. How could they talk about this so openly, like it was no big deal? Surely they knew that this was not an acceptable thing to ask of a Hogwarts teacher! Then again, as he glanced around the eager faces of the assembled students he couldn't help but want to say yes. It was always satisfying to teach children that actually wanted to learn after all, and he did so enjoy the Dark… No! He told himself sternly, interrupting that dangerous line of thinking. It was out of the question. It was illegal, and given his history if he was caught he'd be sent straight to Azkaban. Never mind that they'd be doing it right under Dumbledore's nose… wait, was that a pro or a con? He shook his head.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!" He hissed menacingly. "And don't ever mention something like that again." Even Longbottom's face fell in disappointment. The world was strange…

Addams wasn't at all deterred by his strong words. "At least think on it professor." He said, before turning back to the chair leg in his hand, which was taken as some kind of signal for the others to also get back to work.

Snape collapsed back in his chair with a sigh, his mind racing.

Not too long after the cleaning, no, that didn't do it justice, the restoration was complete and Snape happily dismissed them, thinking that perhaps he should only allow his NEWT students to use this room from now on.

One the way back to the dorms, Heri ignored his friends as he pondered to source of the voice he'd heard briefly not half an hour ago. It spoke with the sibilant, elongated words that easily identified it as Parseltongue, but wondered what kind of snake's voice could carry so far, so clearly. He'd ask Kounna to investigate once she was back from her hunt.

* * *

"Heri!" He barely had chance to turn when a silver and green striped scarf was thrown over his head. He gave Daphne a questioning look as she set about tying a meticulous knot, ensuring the scarf was hanging just right, as though he was getting ready for a photo shoot and not a hell-forsaken game of school quidditch.

Wearing the item and a defeated frown he sat with his friends in one of the Slytherin stands overlooking the pitch. The only Gryffindor member of their group that wasn't playing today was Neville, whose red and gold was as jarring as Ron's had been in the Great Hall the weekend before. The hysteria and bravado created by sport had empowered a few Slytherins with the courage to call Neville out, some going as far as pushing and shoving in an attempt to make him leave, but the Gryffindor was not the meek child he had been this time last year and was expedient in answering their taunts with a rapid fire of (in Heri's opinion), juvenile hexes, so it didn't take long for them to back off and leave him to cheer on his Lions. Heri was rather intrigued to see bats and slugs flying out of people's faces though.

He could see Lucius Malfoy in another stand, looking thoroughly put out at having to attend such an event, and Heri wondered if the man was disappointed in his son for being so eager to engage in team sports.

"Exactly who do we want to win?" He asked the others, "I assume Slytherin?" He really thought as little of sports as he did of fashion, but supposed as a member of Slytherin House it was only expected that his team do well.

"Well yes, of course." Hermione supplied helpfully while making Goyle switch seats with her so he couldn't block her view. "Though it doesn't really matter." Heri looked on with incredulity as his friends nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't…" He sighed; he had to be missing something here. "I thought quidditch made the world go round?" He said sarcastically. "Why am I constantly subjected to it if it doesn't matter?" His friends looked at him with patient smiles – like he was a fool who couldn't understand something basic. It wasn't a look he appreciated and his dark glare told them so. They were sufficiently cowed, all but Neville that is, who was sitting in front of him and so missed it completely.

"You guys obviously want Slytherin to win," He explained, watching as the teams prepared to take flight, "But as long as Draco catches the snitch, Ron guards the goals better than anyone in Hogwarts' history, and nobody gets too bloody, it'll be a triumph." Herido was still confused:

"But I'm only watching for the blood?"

For a while the game proceeded as dully as he'd expected, and on a few occasions he'd considered throwing a little hijinks into the mix, but decided against it – Dumbledore was sitting right there after all, and he didn't feel the situation was so dire that he needed to be reckless. The Slytherin team were the more entertaining, and Daphne had been right in saying that Flint showed an admirable ruthlessness when he played, but it was the twins that were outright sadistic: they aimed to maim.

Still, Heri was glad when Draco finally made a dive for the snitch, but he stood and was making his way down to the pitch before the others even noticed something was wrong.

Draco was blinded for the briefest moment as something shiny reflected the September sun. The Snitch! Attempting to ignore the sun spots trying to blind him, he set off after it as quickly as his Nimbus Two Thousand and One would carry him. As he flew another light blinded him, followed by another, and then another, only this time there didn't seem to be a cause. Still, he persevered, shaking his head to clear his vision. His fingertips had just brushed the smooth surface of his prize when his head exploded in white hot pain, leaving him blind and deaf and careening dangerously at high speed.

Fred had been a second away from aiming the bludger at Draco's broom (a kindness granted to no other Slytherin), when he saw the blonde loosing balance and instead ducked, allowing the violent ball to speed right past him before giving chase. George immediately knew something was going on with his twin and followed his lead, watching in horror as their little snake fell from his broom. The game forgotten, the brothers dropped into a dead dive and just about managed to catch the unconscious boy, sweeping him up to slow his momentum before finally laying him on the ground. Although they were in the middle of the field, they looked up to see Herido was already there, and their other friends were running towards them.

It only took a minute for Draco to wake up, but by that time the game had been suspended and he was surrounded by concerned friends and teammates.

"What happened out there?" Lucius Malfoy asked with short clipped words, sounding altogether unimpressed with his son's performance. At any other time, Draco would have been crushed by the disappointed tone, but right now he wasn't in the mood and so instead of trying to explain himself, he tossed the game winning snitch in his father's direction and took off for the showers, ignoring the calls from the man, from his teammates, from his friends, from Mme Pomfrey and especially from Herido Addams!

* * *

 **xx**


	6. Chapter 6

Draco had been avoiding him. Oh, he'd been careful about it; he'd been present physically, but wouldn't engage Heri in conversation unless directly addressed, and even then he could tell the blonde was quietly seething, in fact every now and then he was barely able to form words through his anger. Heri was fascinated, but also a little put out. He didn't think this kind of hostility was something he should have to put up with from his friends – if it were anyone else he'd have done something about it by now, but had instead forced himself to give Draco time, though that time was quickly running out.

He thought it a great accomplishment that he lasted two weeks before confronting him.

It was getting late, but several Slytherins were still lounging in the common room when Draco finally snapped at Heri.

"Oh for Merlin's sake! Why are we still talking about this? If we want Snape's help, go talk to him: I'm sure _you_ could 'convince' him!" The blonde scoffed. Heri didn't appreciate that tone, but the fact that Draco was now openly glaring at him was curious.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked calmly from his chair. "Perhaps you should have allowed Pomfrey to assess you after your fall?" Draco scoffed again.

"There is nothing wrong with me! It's you who's wrong. You're just… wrong!"

"Very articulate." The words were dripping with sarcasm, which only seem to further provoke Draco. Although Heri seemed relatively relaxed, his patience was running out. How dare Draco Malfoy try to put him down and judge him? Maybe he'd been too kind to his friends, he didn't know – he'd never really had any before, and certainly none that had lasted this long.

Even though Heri was trying to hide his annoyance, Draco could clearly see how the boy's eyes darkened with every second and was reminded why he'd been avoiding any confrontation in the first place. He quickly stood and made for the exit.

"I'm going to bed."

"No, you're not. Sit down Draco." Draco paused, gritting his teeth in anger at being ordered around by the boy he had thought was his friend. It was one thing if Herido took the lead when they were all in it together, but things had changed. He knew better now: Heri didn't want friends. The boy probably mocked the rest of them for even thinking he did. Draco couldn't believe he'd been suckered in. He was angry at himself for trusting Heri, and angry at Heri for betraying that trust.

"Piss off, Addams!" He had only taken one step when he realised his mistake. The room was suddenly thick was tension, and all other conversations had come to a halt as the students turned to stare at him.

"Sit down, Draco." Heri's voice was considerably darker than it had been a moment ago and Draco almost winced. Instead he focused on his anger and not his fear and turned to his less familiar house mates, pointing to the dorms.

"Get out!" He shouted savagely, and they all quickly moved to obey, unsettled by the atmosphere and his raised voice. Draco could be loquacious certainly, but he never shouted like that. Also, second year or not, he already had a reputation not to be messed with, and none currently in the room wanted to challenge that reputation.

Heri had had enough. He'd given Draco a chance to comply, but was ignored, so as the other students left the room he threw out his power, grabbing Draco and swinging him back to where the rest of the group were sitting before throwing him quite carelessly into a chair.

"I said sit down." He bit out.

Draco's head had snapped against the headrest and as he brought up a hand to massage the now tender muscles in his neck he glared, thought with much less intensity, at his so-called friend, who was leaning back to take a calming breath.

"Heri!" Hermione stood and turned in shock to her best friend. They had all hurt each other before, Heri was teaching them combat and weapons training after all, but this was different; this was aggressive… and quite frankly she feared what was about to happen to their blonde friend.

"I think you should all leave as well." He hadn't moved, his eyes were still closed and his voice was even and low, but not one of them was in any doubt that it was an order. But still, they didn't want to leave Draco here alone with an angry Herido Addams. They all started to protest. "It's ok. Go to bed." Heri insisted quietly. They were pretty sure it wasn't ok, and definitely wouldn't be sleeping, but they gave in and tentatively made their way out, confident that Heri wouldn't hurt Draco, not seriously anyway. Friends fought, they told themselves, that was all this was.

Once they were alone, Heri took one more calming breath and stood to walk over to the blonde with an expressionless face – the only clue as to what he was thinking being his almost black eyes. The rest of Draco's glare withered as fear and doubt won control of his emotions.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" He stopped a foot in front of him, but Draco stayed silent. "There must be something – something's been eating you up for weeks now. Best to get it off your chest." The lightly mocking cadence of those last words didn't reassure Draco one bit.

"I just finally see you for what you are." Draco was thankful for all those years of Pureblood training when his voice didn't break once. Heri frowned.

"I've never made any secret about what I am." He couldn't imagine what his friend was getting at.

Draco took his own deep breath, though his was for courage and resolve. He'd already messed up, so might as well say what he wanted to.

"I remember." He said quietly. "That day at mine, when I overheard you and Hermione talking."

Ah. That was enough to finally inform Herido just what this was all about. He scowled murderously at the wall. This wouldn't have been a problem at all if he hadn't been sent to summer camp. If he'd had more time to practice…

"Ok," He said, taking a seat near his friend and relaxing a bit. He supposed he would also be mad in this situation, but that didn't mean he'd let Draco speak to him however he liked, and so kept his hold on the boy, keeping him firmly in place. Having friends really was a bother. At least when he fought with his siblings he knew they could give as good as they got, but these children were weak (in comparison), and if he were to fight this out with Draco, the room would be redecorated with the poor boy's insides in less than a minute. Maybe he could meet him half way.

"Let's go train." He said, not giving him chance to respond before dragging him out and to the Room of Requirement.

By the time they got there, Draco was so embarrassed and therefore angry about being treated like this that his anger had risen again. It also helped that Herido seemed a lot calmer now, so he wasn't quite so on edge.

This was just how Heri wanted him.

"Grab a weapon." He said, and was glad when Draco wasted no time in taking a long, heavy axe from the wall and amused when he also took regular old hammer and shoved it into the side of his trousers for back up. Draco really wanted to hurt him. It was too adorable.

However he could also see a hesitance about his stance, and wondered whether Draco thought he'd brought him here for a beat down for his earlier behaviour. He raised his hands.

"Kid gloves, I promise." He mocked. "Look, no weapons, no magic." The Malfoys as a whole were very prideful and the best way to rile them up was to hurt that pride.

Immediately after seeing that Heri was indeed unarmed, Draco took a swing, but Heri simply stepped aside and brought the blade of his hand down on the base of his neck, causing the less experienced boy to flail flat on the ground before quickly getting back up.

"Well that was foolish." He goaded. "Care to try again?" Draco circled Heri for a moment and he left himself full of openings, but Heri just waited.

Things went on this way for a while: Draco wearing himself out trying to attack and Heri dodging and returning with light martial arts, never trying to disarm or end the fight. And although it was tiring, every miss made Draco madder and more determined and soon enough adrenaline coursed through his body, making him faster and smarter.

After almost forty minutes he had managed to get several hits in, though only with the handle of the axe, before he finally collapsed, just about managing to throw the hammer without much thought or aim in Herido's general direction before lying back, almost completely incapacitated by the adrenaline overdose.

Across the room Heri winced when he pressed a finger into his side: that would bruise.

"Do you feel better now?" He asked, falling back gracefully into the chair that appeared in perfect time to meet him. Draco gave a breathless nod from the floor - he didn't even have the energy to ask the room for a cushion, though his heart rate was finally falling. "Then are you ready to talk?" He took out a cigarette. "Civilly?"

Draco rolled his eyes, and silence reigned for a few minutes as he regained his strength

"Why did you do it?" Draco asked, eventually finding the energy to push himself into a sitting potion – he wouldn't have this conversation on his back. "I don't… You don't try to Obliviate your friends, Heri." Disappointment had replaced the anger in his voice.

"You do if that's what's best for them." The dark boy countered.

"You don't." Draco insisted. You can't mess with your friends minds. If you couldn't trust you own mind, you couldn't trust anything – it was a huge violation. "How could that possibly be in my best interest?"

Heri sighed. "Because if you'd pushed further to find out what we were talking about you'd have gotten into trouble."

"How?" Heri took a long drag: Draco just wasn't getting it, was he?

"Hermione had to take a magical oath before I told her."

"And I couldn't have done the same?" Was Draco's immediate reply. He could do anything the others could!

"Would you have?" Heri challenged and Draco stayed quiet while he thought it through. A magical oath was a scary thing. You didn't enter into one lightly, but yeh, he decided he would have. "Even if you had, I know you Draco." Heri continued with a wry smile. "You wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from sharing what you knew, or at the very least making it as obvious as possible that you knew _something,_ and that would have ended badly; it would have cost you your magic. The cost was too high, it was better if you just forgot."

As Draco pondered this he actually felt bad: Heri had been trying to protect him after all, in his own, Addamsy way. Ok at first he'd been offended that Heri didn't think he could keep a secret. He'd stayed quiet about all their extra-curricular activities hadn't he?

"I'm sorry." He said in regard to his actions this past week or two. Heri just nodded stiffly. "Are you going to tell me now?" He asked.

Heri grimaced while his thoughts fought each other. "Do you truly believe you'd be able to act normally? Treat me normally?" Heri doubted it; the kids in England were still obsessed with Harry Potter. Draco nodded. "Even if I was to tell you, I don't know, that I was Voldemort's son?" Draco laughed at that, but tried to think about it seriously. He nodded again. Heri was already scary enough, so it couldn't have made that much difference. "Like you were able to act so normally this last fortnight?" He scowled at Heri's amusement, but could see his point.

"Betrayal's a powerful thing." He said, standing and raising his chin pompously, while walking closer to his friend and asking the room for a chair of his own.

"And what if what I tell you makes you feel betrayed?" Heri could tell Draco was getting exasperated with him. "I don't want you to lose your magic." He said harshly, but Draco ignored him and took out his wand, twisting it this way and that.

"I hereby vow on my magic not to reveal in any way anything I learn in the next… twenty minutes." The blue glow that settled over Draco proved the spell had worked, and Heri was mildly impressed the boy knew how to perform it. "There! Now either shut up or tell me!" He stayed quiet for a moment. That was far too open a vow – one that even Heri wouldn't have asked him to make. What if he learned something useful that he'd never be able to demonstrate? The sadistic part of him wanted to spend the next twenty minutes teaching Draco as much defensive magic as he knew.

"Ok." He gave in. He had tried, more than he should have really. Everyone had to take responsibility for their own actions, so if Draco lost his magic after all this, it would be Draco's fault. "You heard me telling Hermione that I was related to you, but that strictly speaking the Addams' were not. This is because I was not born an Addams." Draco's eyes widened comically at the revelation. "I was born Harry James Potter." He waited for the explosion of hysteria that was no doubt coming, but was a little distracted when Draco's eyes bugged even more: he'd never seem someone's eyes simply fall from their head and wondered if it was possible.

"Tha… That… That…" Draco stopped trying to form coherent words to process that information. He wanted to shout 'I don't believe you! You're joking! You're lying.' Or 'How is that possible? Potter died.' Or 'You're from America! You're darker than anyone I've ever met!' But mostly 'How could you hide something like that from us?! You know my father is a Death Eater! You killed the Dark Lord!' He had to use every ounce of control and reasonableness he possessed not to do so. His head was a mess, but he was determined to prove himself, to prove that he could be trusted with something so earth shattering, and that he wouldn't react as Heri predicted.

Heri was happy to give Draco time to think – rather grateful that he wasn't ranting and raving. It took ten minutes before the next words were spoken.

"That's massive." Draco settled on dumbly. "But it's ok, because I know you, and you are an Addams." Heri smiled proudly at that. "I could have been born Beedle the Bard, but I'd still be me – a Malfoy." He didn't feel betrayed. Shocked and confused, certainly, but not betrayed. He could understand why Heri would want to keep this a secret from everyone, and he had gone to a lot of trouble to protect Draco, so he was reassured his friendship was genuine. And then there was the fact that Herido was as dark as they come, and that was something you couldn't fake – Heri being born a Potter meant very little.

"Awesome." Heri said. "You can talk with Hermione about this, but only in here, and you can talk to your godfather about it, but only after he's raised sufficient privacy wards."

"Snape knows?!"

And so when the twenty minutes were up, he left Heri to practise in the RoR and headed to Snape's room. Ok, so there was a huge part of him that desperately wanted to talk and shout about how scandalous this secret was, and his godfather would just have to be his outlet. Harry Potter was alive! Magical Mother of Merlin!

* * *

The next morning, Slytherin House (rumours spread quickly), were shocked to see that not only was Malfoy still in one piece, but he was just as arrogant as ever as he chatted with his friends, including Herido Addams. It definitely added to Draco's reputation, as well as their group as a whole.

Heri was rather displeased when the twins dragged Ginny over to sit with them, stating they wanted to make sure she was ok because she was looking a little pale. It wasn't that Heri disliked the girl – he tried not to dislike people he didn't even know – it's just that he was disappointed in her. He was hoping that the stories of the blood feud were true and that she would therefore be super powerful, but this wasn't the case at all. She was strong, but not especially so. Maybe the story was a myth – he'd have to ask his family about it.

He turned his mind, and body, away from the Weasleys to look up at Snape, who was looking rather worn out this morning. He decided that Draco's outcry the night before, as unfortunately presented as it was, actually had a point. Heri had given the potions master plenty of time to think on their request, and decided to pay him a visit. That they had potions last period today seemed like fate.

"Professor, may I have a word?" Herido asked, even as he took a seat on the visitor's side of the man's desk. Snape sighed as he took his own seat, resigned to having to deal with the Potter-Addams headache. He purposely avoided his attempts at polite small talk and just waited for Addams to get to the point.

"Ok," Heri finally said. "I want to know if you've given any further consideration to our request."

"I have not." Snape replied dismissively, mostly hoping the boy would take him at his word, but partly wanting to be persuaded. He never intended to be a teacher, but if he had to choose he would much rather teach the Dark Arts, and then potions only to those who truly wished to learn.

"Truly?" Herido challenged knowingly. "Is there anything I can offer to change your mind?" He knew how things worked. He'd played this game with Quirrell last year.

Snape's mind raced with all the things that Addams could give him: all the knowledge, though of course he knew in reality the boy wouldn't give up any information on his family or the magics they used. Still, there was plenty left he wanted to know. He cast a powerful privacy charm.

"If I was to agree to something like this, I would only be available for an hour a week, and would want several questions answered."

"Shoot." Heri encouraged.

"Why did Quirrell attack you?" It was the question that had most been on his mind of late.

When Snape didn't continue, Heri realised he was waiting for him to answer the question.

"I want to know which questions you have before I decide whether they are worth the price of answering, professor. I'm not writing a blank cheque here." Snape conceded with a nod.

"Very well then: Why did Quirrell attack you? What's going on with Ronald Weasley? And…" He thought of all the questions he had, but then something else occurred to him, something that should take precedence: "and I want your word that no students will die as a result of the actions of you or your friends."

Heri thought on it a moment and decided nothing there could be used to hurt him, not by someone illegally teaching Dark Arts.

"Professor Quirrell attacked me because he believed I had taken the Philosopher's Stone and wanted me to hand it over; Ron was subjected to and survived the Wendigo Curse; and I give you my word that no Hogwarts students will die as a result of the actions of me or my friends this year."

Snape was stunned. He didn't miss the time limit Addams had added on to his promise, or the terrifying truth of the Weasley boy, but he didn't care. He could hopefully find a way of renewing the promise next year and nothing could be done about Weasley. Mostly though, he didn't care because he was still stuck on the first answer: if Quirrell thought Herido took the Stone, then that meant that he didn't, which in turn would suggest that the Dark Lord didn't have it either. Maybe the man wouldn't be returning so soon after all.

" _Did_ you take the Philosopher's Stone?" He had to ask.

"A student stealing something like that? That's rather improbable, no?" He challenged, but the sly smile on Addams' face told him everything Snape needed to know.

He didn't know which disturbed him more: The Stone in the hands of Lord Voldemort, or the Stone in the hands of the Addams'. It also meant he had once again underestimated the boy. It had just been assumed by all that Quirrell had taken the Stone after he was outed as a Dark wizard, but in fact a student had pulled off a flawless robbery right under Dumbledore's nose.

"What time works for you, professor?" Heri interrupted Snape's thoughts.

"Eleven tonight. Do you have somewhere to practise? There are powerful detection wards around the castle." Heri shook his head. He wasn't naïve enough to trust a traitor, so wouldn't be sharing any information about the RoR, as it was far too useful to lose.

"We'll have to go out into the forest." Seeing the man wanted to object, he continued. "It's fine. I know a place that will give us enough cover. We've used it before and never been caught. Draco killed a centaur there." He added, just to enjoy the shock and horror on his face.

Snape knew he had given in too easily, but he wanted to do it and so tried to see the positive. Spending time with these children would give him the opportunity to get to know them better, to see just what they were capable of, and guide their journey through the Dark Arts, which were notoriously dangerous. Although he was a little conflicted: he wanted to help Harry Potter to become stronger, but making Herido Addams stronger in any way seemed like a bad idea.

* * *

School rolled on without incident until Halloween.

Cousin Creep invited Herido and his friends to join him at Sir Nicholas' Death Day party, which had such a lovely, homely feel about it, though his friends didn't agree. Sir Nick had a good turn out and Heri quickly set off to make the rounds, greeting those he knew and being introduced to the others, while his friends huddled together and debated whether their absence would be noticed if they all made a break for the Great Hall.

After a while Heri returned to them.

"You're not mingling." At the dubious stares he continued. "You never know what you'll learn from these stiffs. They are still people just like everyone else!" They doubted that, but let the statement lie in favour of finding something to eat.

They were disappointed with the buffet and even Ron wouldn't try any of the food on offer. All the food was burnt or rotten or utterly indescribable.

Heri of course took his time perusing the table before suddenly turning away in revulsion.

"I would have thought all this would be to your liking." Crabbe joked, surprised when Heri nodded.

"Indeed… But Pubert went through a phase where he would only eat putrefied cheeses, and there are only so many resulting diapers you can change before such things are ruined forever. He actually…"

"Ok then!" Daphne interrupted quickly, not needing to hear any more. "Perhaps we should head over to the feast to get something to eat?" She tried, happy when everyone eagerly backed her up and Heri gave in.

They only made it half way to the Great Hall when Heri heard the voice of the mystery snake once again. It was murmuring the most beautiful poetry: '…rip…tear…kill…' And so without explanation he set off to find it.

Kounna had investigated and found the creature a month before, but she had never seen anything like it and so was little help. Kounna was a fearsome snake. She was naturally quite deadly and had been enhanced magically and there was very little she feared, so he was surprised when she told him she didn't dare get closer to the humungous serpent for fear of being eaten. He would just have to find out what it was for himself.

Everyone followed Heri's speedy progress through the halls, but came to an abrupt stop when they came across an impressive tableau: Written in blood were the words 'THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.' Besides which was the frozen body of Filch's much despised cat.

Heri felt excitement bubbling through his veins – things had been so dull lately.

 **xx**


	7. Chapter 7

Heri dragged his fingers down, cutting through the crimson words.

"Animal blood." He sighed. "Nobody has any style nowadays."

"Sounds interesting though…" Fred started with enthusiasm.

"I wonder what secrets it holds!" George finished his twin's thought.

"What does it mean though? Heir of what?" Neville asked, and Heri turned to see if any of his friends had the answer. It seemed that Draco was a little more in the loop than him.

"The Chamber of Secrets is something to do with Salazar Slytherin, right? He built some hidden chamber way back when."

"That rings a bell." Daphne agreed.

"Then that would make the Heir, Voldemort." Heri added. This day was just getting better and better.

"What?"

"How?"

"Enemies, beware…" He pondered the words, ignoring his friends' shock. "Maybe Dumbledore? He's Voldemort's greatest enemy, isn't he?"

"I think the chamber was built with another purpose in mind… I don't know, maybe the teachers can help." Draco would write to his father tonight.

Heri was just about to examine the fate of Mrs Norris when the sound of dozens of footsteps echoed down the hall.

"We should go." Hermione advised. He supposed they didn't need any more heat, and if he was literally found red-handed he'd definitely get the blame, so he followed his friends away from the scene before the other students arrived. When he heard several outcries, he wondered whether he should have stayed just to enjoy the show.

Over the next few days the whole school was abuzz. Most of the student population was on edge, nervous or scared about what was coming. The rest, those that were gleeful and gloating, were noticeably Slytherin.

Heri was the most excited though. Excited, and a little disappointed. He was excited because a legendary secret had been unleashed; there was a giant snake on the loose, up to god knows what; and if the Heir was indeed Voldemort then the man had already returned to the school. It was ballsy if nothing else. He was disappointed because he hadn't felt the need to come say hello – manners cost nothing. He also expected better from the Dark Lord; the writing on the wall was an impressive statement and even the teachers were scared, but animal blood? That was cheap.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was furious. He had expected the diary to curse the Weasley girl, but this Chamber of Secrets business had to be related. As a school governor he'd been informed of the incident on Halloween right away, and at first he tried to convince himself it was the work of Addams, but after receiving Draco's letter he had to concede that this was probably his own doing. Maybe the diary was the key to the chamber – that would certainly be something the Dark Lord would value.

Lucius was a Slytherin, and he didn't care if someone was setting out to complete Salazar's work, in fact he was all for it, but the last thing he needed was Dumbledore getting a hold of the diary – that outcome was worse than the Ministry getting it, and if that happened he would never be able to face his Lord! So in the end he decided to trust his son. Draco wasn't his baby boy anymore. The boy had grown without him noticing and become someone stronger, someone who could be trusted with something as important as this.

He just had to make sure his son handed the diary over to him, and not Addams.

* * *

"So come on then, what's the deal with the Chamber of Secrets?" Heri asked Snape as they set up for that night's lesson. Astoria had joined them at Daphne's insistence. Herido could understand why she would want to help her family become stronger and he trusted his friend's judgement and so had allowed her to stay.

"The deal," Snape sneered at the phrase, "Is that Salazar Slytherin left behind the chamber to one day unleash a monster that would remove all of those he thought were undeserving of a magical education."

"Muggleborns." Hermione said grimly. Mutterings of discontent quickly spread, but were interrupted by Herido.

"You have to respect the man's commitment." He suggested. "Even the muggles have overcome prejudices from a thousand years ago. To think he was able to keep his ideals alive this long!" Nobody was particularly offended by his words, as they knew Heri being impressed by Slytherin didn't equate to agreeing with his views.

"I disagree. I would say that a whole lot of muggles still hold barbaric, archaic views." Hermione argued. "I have several neighbours who would never speak to me again if they knew I was a witch."

"I don't think the Dark Lord will settle for shunning you." Snape added dryly.

"That's because he hasn't met her yet." Draco laughed, causing the others to share snickers at their little inside joke.

"I'm a delight!" Hermione exclaimed with exaggerated pomp, but when Draco turned back to her she had her wand raised. His was also drawn and ready in a second.

"Hey! I was only teasing." He cried as he blocked her spell before returning his own. Soon enough hexes were flying everywhere.

"Perhaps tonight's lesson could focus on defensive magic?" Neville suggested, trying to bring their focus back, because he could see that Snape was clearly fighting a desire to take the lot of them out for disrespecting his lesson, knew Heri would consider this a viable and probably useful teaching method, and so was something Neville wanted to avoid. Though he really had no idea what they could do to defend against an unknown monster.

"Quite, Mr Longbottom." Snape agreed at least with what the boy was trying to do. "Though I am sorely tempted to leave you all defenceless and at the creature's mercy!" They all calmed down at once.

"Sorry, Professor." Hermione was mortified that she'd behaved in such a way with a teacher present. She could only assume it was because she'd gotten used to seeing him in this unusual and less formal setting, however he had made clear at their first lesson that they were to conduct themselves as they would in a classroom. "Yes, so defence…" She started in an effort to make amends.

"Hmm, I find sharp blades work on most things." Heri said helpfully.

"That's not really defensive though." Argued a melodic, wispy voice.

"On occasion I'm afraid the best line of defence is offence." Snape returned.

"Especially when you don't know what you're up against." Hermione nodded, easily returning to student mode.

"But the Weetimorousbeasties are convinced it's a serpent of some kind." The voice said.

"That would make sense for Slytherin."

"But Weetimorousbeasties don't even exis…" Hermione stopped talking as she, along with everyone else spun to look at the intruder, only just now realising they were one voice too many. Snape sucked in a sharp breath.

Luna Lovegood stood next to a training manikin and she looked just as startled as the others.

"You assured me this area was secured!" Snape rounded on Addams immediately. "I should have known, you're just as arrogant as you father." He was a fool for going along with this nonsense for as long as he had! The risk was too great.

Heri ignored the hostile words for now (his father?), and considered the new girl. She acted the way muggles did after being exposed to low levels of electricity, but her magic was still the most purely Light he'd ever seen. He was against using children in sacrificial rituals unless absolutely necessary, but that didn't mean he couldn't get to work researching all the things he could do with this girl's magic once she was older.

"That's Loony Lovegood." Astoria mocked. Her year mate had a reputation for being off her head most of the time, so the younger Greengrass wasn't as concerned as the others. No one would believe her.

"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, Miss Lovegood?" Snape asked with a hard voice. Maybe he could just obliviate her, it wasn't like he hadn't done it to a student before after all.

"I was feeding the thestrals, when I felt the most interesting thrum of magic. It led me here." She explained, still sounding completely at ease and now with a dreamy, far off look in her eyes. She looked into the calculating, nervous or mistrustful faces of those around her. "Don't worry, I'm not as innocent as I seem." Heri scoffed at that, but she carried on, not taking any offence. "It's true that I can't use the magics you're practicing here, but Light magic can be just as deadly – you just have to be creative." Her smile was haunting. "And I'm very creative."

Everyone was silent as they thought.

"It was nice to meet you all." She chimed. "But I really must be getting back to the thestrals now."

Snape made to go after her, but Heri called him off.

"You can't honestly believe she'll stay quiet about this?" The man asked in anger and disbelief.

"I believe we should find out." Heri replied, before taking out his wand to start practicing, while the others commented on how surreal that had been. He was intrigued. He knew she was right that any magic could be harmful in the right hands. However he also knew that 'light' and 'dark' were merely labels, and that any witch or wizard could use either - they simply chose not to. But mostly he was curious because he'd never met a witch like her, and he wondered what trauma had made her that way.

Snape was far too cautious a man to let the girl walk away, but none of the other children seemed concerned after Heri spoke, and he had underestimated them before, so he ignored his own instincts and started the lesson. He imagined he wouldn't be getting much sleep over the next few days…

* * *

Draco held on to his father's letter, not sure what to do with the information, but given its contents he had to share it once a first year was attacked.

"So someone is using your father's diary to open the chamber?" Daphne summarised as she scanned through the letter once more.

"I think so." Draco nodded. "And he says that the last time the chamber was opened someone died. A muggle-born." He gave Hermione an almost apologetic smile.

"Well then I don't think Hermione should be going anywhere by herself until we sort this out." Ron suggested seriously. Their group was well known for being fiercely protective of each other.

"I'm quite capable of handling myself!" She insisted. "I don't need babysitters."

"You're right." Hermione smiled at Heri's words, until she realised he was looking at Ron. "We'll take turns babysitting." She huffed, but was quietly pleased – these really were better friends than she had ever hoped for. She knew that nothing would happen to her if they had anything to say about it.

"You can't really think Ginny is the one using the diary though!" Fred was sure she wasn't. She couldn't be. She was still having trouble accepting that her brothers were friends with Slytherins, never mind jumping on board with Pureblood doctrine.

"You said yourselves that she's seemed rather off lately." Blaise pointed out.

"That doesn't mean she's trying to kill people!"

"Yeh" Draco rolled his eyes. "And she probably thinks that you would never dream of killing and eating people." He hit back at Ron.

"That's not the same!"

They didn't think it was Ginny who was using the diary, but all the same the Weasleys were keen to get such a dangerous thing away from her.

Draco was distracted when he heard the tell-tale strum of fingers and turned to Herido, who had a contemplative look that he didn't like one bit.

"No." He said straight away, much to Heri's disappointment.

"But we could just borrow it before we give it back." He tried. "Aren't you curious about what's inside the chamber?"

Draco _was_ curious. But this was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid: he hated that he felt his loyalties were always torn between his friends and his family.

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport, Draco." The twins teased as they slid beside him and took an arm each, completely caging him in. "Your dad put our baby sister in harm's way, we should at least get a peek at the diary – it's only fair."

He sighed in defeat. "Ok, fine, but just a peek…"

And so the Gryffindors started making a plan to find wherever Ginny had hidden it away. The twins were mischievous enough to know how to get into the girl's dorms and they even had a way of ensuring they weren't interrupted while they searched.

Heri gave a small smile as they presented the Marauder's Map and explained that this was how they never got caught sneaking to the RoR. Of course now they had Ron, who could smell if someone was coming a mile away! He took the parchment and ran a finger over the names – over the name of his birth father. It was no secret that the man, or boy, and his friends were troublemakers at school – maybe Heri had inherited the trait from him. Prongs…

"What is it?" Daphne asked when she saw the gentle look in his eyes that was almost foreign to her.

"Nothing." He handed the map back, and they all agreed to meet tomorrow night to take a look at this hopefully powerful artefact.

As soon as the twins entered the RoR Heri knew they were holding another Horcrux. Even without using his sight – his own buzzed wonderfully for a moment in recognition of another part of its soul being so near. No wonder Voldemort had made such an error of judgement the night of his downfall! After his fight with Quirrell, his grandmamma had figured out what Lily had done to save her son that night and his mother especially had been impressed, not to mention grateful, for her sacrifice. But holding yet another Horcrux, Heri couldn't help but think maybe she needn't have bothered, that maybe his soul would have simply crumbled apart eventually. He wondered how many there were and thought back to his pizza analogy, because at this rate, Herido was going to own more of the man's soul than he did! And he did own it, because there was no way in hell he'd be giving this back to Lucius Malfoy, who'd already shown he couldn't be trusted with it. He just had to figure out how to convince his friend that it was for the best, because he didn't think he'd be able to tolerate a repeat of their last disagreement.

For the short term though, he'd convinced the others to let him take a closer look at Tom Riddle's diary. He sat in the safety and privacy of his bed, curtains closed, and thumbed through the empty book. At first he'd had no intention of writing a word in it – to do so seemed terribly disrespectful, like he would be defacing or defiling such a wicked and deliciously dark item. However he could feel the compulsion charm drawing him in as soon as he'd opened the cover, and if Voldemort wanted someone to write in it, he was happy to oblige. He leafed back to the first blank page and wrote the first thing that came to mind:

'What on earth were you thinking?'

He was about to write more, when his words disappeared, seemingly absorbed into the aged parchment.

' _You'll have to be a little more specific than that.'_ Though they were only written words, Heri got the distinct impression that the diary was amused. These words also vanished, but were replaced by more before he had chance to respond. _'My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?'_

For a moment he didn't move. 'my diary'? It couldn't possibly be… Had Voldemort made this Horcrux interactive? It felt real, not like a charm or curse at all. Perhaps the inherent defensive magic of the Addams was protecting him, but he'd never had any inkling that his own Horcrux had sentience; it simply allowed him some vague insight into the condition of its master-soul. So maybe this was something else. Whatever it was it was incredible. Heri was certain he knew a thousand things that Voldemort did not, but he wouldn't even know where to begin making something like this – to give an inanimate object conscious thought, his own conscious thought at that, with all the intricacies and millions of permutations contained within a mind.

Suddenly his hands started to shake over so slightly, and it was probably a good thing that nobody could see the wide maniacal grin that split across his face – it would only frighten them.

'You really were a bloody genius!'

You had to respect greatness when you found it. Heri had known since last year that he was nowhere near ready to face the Dark Lord, and this Diary had reaffirmed his desire and commitment to become stronger: not only was Voldemort's power overwhelming, he had the intellect to put that power to use. Harry admired the man far too much to not give it his all when their wands next met. That would be offensive, like if his brother or sister didn't try their best to kill him when they fought.

For a while the diary was dormant, but eventually that elegant script flowed across the page once more.

' _Will you not introduce yourself? Who are you?'_

Ah yes, Heri had got caught up in his musing and forgotten the niceties.

'Apologies. My name is Herido Addams, and it's a pleasure to meet you.' He only waited a beat before continuing. 'And some friends of mine stole the Diary from little Ginny.'

' _Oh? And why would they do that?'_

'Because we wanted to get a look at this supposed key to the chamber of secrets.' And then as an afterthought he added: 'And I suppose because the previous keeper of your diary wants it back.'

The Diary fell silent once again. This was probably the last thing Tom had been expecting – someone who appeared to know so much, and Heri was having great fun with it.

' _Herido Addams… Ginny told me all about you. You have a fierce reputation for a second year.'_

Heri didn't like this more cautious Voldemort. He was expecting him to rise to the bait, the way the man he'd met last year would have done.

'I'm just a typical American boy.'

… _Indeed, then would you care to explain why Ginny Weasley is terrified of you, and of the influence you might be having on her brothers?'_

'My family has a reputation.'

' _That's all?'_ Tom pushed.

'It's quite the reputation… Also I may have killed the teacher you were possessing last year…'

' _Explain!'_ That was an order, and Heri knew he'd got him this time.

'Quid pro quo: what are you?'

' _Explain, and I'll tell you.'_ Even the letters had become a little sharper with Tom Riddle's displeasure.

Heri gave in more quickly that he usually would. 'You, the future you that is, was possessing my DADA professor last year and I killed him.' He said simply. 'Though I only found out he was possessed at the end of the year. After all, that Lord Voldemort was hiding in the school all year isn't an obvious leap to make.'

Suddenly, Heri felt a sucking deep down in his core, which brought with it a splitting headache. He was a fool for not noticing it before: the diary was trying to drain his power, though until that moment it had been featherlike and tentative. Even so, he should have felt it right away.

' _How is it you know my name?'_ The words came immediately.

'It's written on your diary.' – More sucking. It felt like he was being hollowed out, even though he knew it was only a miniscule amount of power leaving him. He wished Tom would stop – he was starting to enjoy it. It was certainly a new experience.

' _How is it you know my name?'_ Tom repeated as the sucking went back to its previous, less invasive levels.

'Your turn, Tom.' He wanted to answer the man, but knew he'd get nothing in return if he just went along with everything he said.

' _I am a memory, preserved in this diary. Now, answer my question.'_

Again, Heri couldn't help but be impressed: a memory. Heri knew memories – he had a pensieve at home of course – and memories didn't interact; they didn't have conscious thoughts and emotions and minds of their own.

While Heri pondered Tom wrote another line, this one distinctly more smug then the previous ones, and his attention was brought back to the matter at hand.

' _Or should I conclude that you are simply the offspring of one of my… friends?'_

'Oh no, definitely not. You know what they say about assuming, don't you? No, as far as I can tell, none of those offspring have a clue to your real name – I've yet to meet a student that does…'

' _Lord Voldemort is my real name!'_ Heri smirked down. Voldemort really was touchy about the most ridiculous things, but at least he didn't seem to be holding back any more.

'As you say.' Heri wrote in what he hoped was an obviously indulgent way. 'I know all about you because my family are powerful and… well informed. You would hardly believe. In fact we…' Heri tossed down his quill, splattering ink all across his bedspread, honestly shocked at what he was about to share – it was nothing too serious, but it was Addams business and Addams business stayed in the family. That damn compulsion charm was far more powerful than he'd guessed! No wonder he was struggling not to overshare.

' _You what?'_ Tom tried after a few moments. _'You can tell me.'_

With renewed resolve, Heri picked up his quill.

'Nice try.' Was all he wrote.

' _Very well. Though I admit, I find it hard to believe you. If yours was really such a powerful family, then surely I'd have heard of them.'_

'Why would you? Having been raised by muggles and all?'

This time the sucking sensation was violently strong, and Heri realised it must have been enhanced by his own Horcrux somehow, because the pain in his head was now blinding. He quickly slammed the diary shut and tossed it to the end of the bed, deciding that however amusing he normally found Voldemort and his muggle hate, that was quite enough for one night.

With a dark scowl he pushed back a curtain and slid from the bed. He couldn't decide if he felt more irritation at allowing himself to be swept along or admiration for the Diary, but at least he understood why innocent _light_ little Ginny had seemed so unwell of late – she didn't stand a chance.

"Elf!" His voice was cold but low in the darkness of the dormitory. He heard to tell-tale pop of an elf answering his call, but didn't spare the creature a glance as he grabbed the diary for safekeeping and made his way out. "I require fresh bedding." And without waiting for a response he left. He needed to let off a little steam and the forest would have to entertain him tonight.

* * *

 **One of those chapters I had to rewrite and rewrite and am still unsure about lol**

 **Thanks for reading and I so appreciate those that take the time to review.**

 **xx**


	8. Chapter 8

_Blood fell enthusiastically from Herido's arm, which hung limply from his beaten body as he was carried towards Hogwarts castle by a man shrouded in shadow._

" _Heri!" Hermione froze with everyone else when the dark stranger glided closer. A terrifying smirk breaking through the gloom that shadowed his face – even with his hands full carrying Heri, this man wasn't a bit intimidated by the group of eleven students aiming their wands at him and that was making the children nervous. He also had an aura about him that screamed at them to run and hide._

 _For the first time in a long time they were glad when Dumbledore appeared and stepped before them. The headmaster's own power flared out angrily and left them feeling pathetically helpless in the midst of these two apparent titans. Yes, they were grateful for his presence, but not entirely relieved, because although defensive and battle ready, Dumbledore's stance also told of his obvious apprehension, and anything that could make the fearsome Leader of the Light anxious couldn't be good – not when that thing was holding the broken body of their friend._

" _Lord Dracula." Dumbledore greeted, never once dropping his defence in favour of conventional etiquette. In reaction to his words the strangers smirk broke into a wide maniacal grin and great winds suddenly swept around him, throwing the hood from his head and revealing the creature's face._

 _Heri's friends gasped as one and took a step back. Even if the name hadn't been enough, there was no second guessing who this man was. Muggle and wizard literature alike painted a surprisingly accurate picture of the Vampire Lord who was feared throughout the world, even by his own kind, who he ruled over viciously and without mercy. Dracula's skin was bone white, and appeared almost translucent in the moonlight, but still managed to create a perfect canvas for the jet black hair that framed his face and the deep blood red eyes that peered out at the children with something like glee. He was impeccably dressed in red and charcoal, though the fedora threw them a little._

 _Dracula's reputation for cruelty was legend, and everyone present – the headmaster included – feared for the safety of Herido Addams._

" _Albus Dumbledore, what a pleasure it is to meet you." The demon's voice was cold, but impossibly smooth and alluring and sent shivers down the spine._

" _What brings you here this night?" Albus asked in as emotionless a tone as he could muster to hide his racing thoughts: even if he could somehow save Addams and send the Vampire Lord away without any more students being hurt, how the hell was he supposed to explain to Herido's parents that he'd allowed their son to be harmed so? And what would the consequences be of said explanation?_

 _Instead of answering, Dracula's head cocked to one side and his glowing eyes darted to the far left. There was another gust of wind, shorter this time, and before anyone could blink McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape were lying winded in the space between Dracula and Dumbledore. A giant, ferocious black dog bounded towards them, leaving Dumbledore less than a second to summon all three teachers towards him, before throwing them in quiet desperation to where his students stood wide eyed with fear. Though shaken, the staff members understood his intentions and stood, staying back to guard the children._

 _Albus' eyes turned to steel as he watched the horrifying hellhound disappear into the shadows around his vampire foe. "You could have killed them." He voice was dangerously low, but Dracula merely let out a bark of laughter._

"' _Could have'?" He shook his head and tsked. "_ _ **Would**_ _have!" He promised slyly. "Should you allow your pets to attack me, I am more than happy to have my own take their lives… eventually." Albus tried not to gulp: He was fairly confident he could see off an attack from this presumed immortal creature, but knew the casualty count from such an endeavour would be catastrophic, so fighting with Dracula here at Hogwarts was to be avoided._

" _They are professors." Dumbledore countered as he tried to defend without escalating. "It is their duty to defend the school. So I ask again: why have you come here?"_

" _Why else would I come to a school?" Dracula returned easily. "To teach." He watched as the aged wizard drew a breath to spout words of objection and continued. "And if you prevent me from carrying out_ _ **my**_ _duty; if you continue to stand in my way…" His mouth stopped moving, instead lighting his face with that awful grin, but Albus felt another presence behind him and spun his head to find Minerva's face an inch from his own, wearing a sickening copy of that grin. "_ _ **I will tear my way through your barricade before taking my fill of the young wizard blood within these walls**_ _." Her lips moved, but it was the monster's voice._

 _He needed to think, but knew that Dracula's patience had run out. Before he was forced to make a decision, Herido (of all people!), saved him._

" _Enough!" His voice was weakened by injury, but still rang with commanding clarity. Albus watched as the boy he'd thought to be unconscious lifted his head to frown at him – as though Albus was being a bother! "Enough. Take me inside." Confusion shook those present as the creature of such immense power moved to heed Herido's command, though Albus remained in place: surely he couldn't allow Lord Dracula into the school?_

 _Heri felt the vampire's power gathering as he got ready to follow his direction to take him into the school by removing the great obstacle on his path. He sighed. Dracula was doing this on purpose – he was excited about the opportunity to fight such a dangerous enemy._

 _"I'd appreciate you letting us pass, headmaster. As you can see, I require attention, and I can assure you that Dracula will do no harm to those inside."_

" _Little Master, you spoil my fun!" The vampire chided merrily._

" _You can have fun on your own time." Heri returned without care, while the headmaster wondered how he had once again underestimated the Addams child. He supposed he'd simply gotten used to him, strange as that felt. But still, this was beyond oversight. Dracula was rarely even seen in public any more, and the general consensus was that he'd fallen into one of his great slumbers. Just how deep did the Addams influence and power truly go?_

 _In the end he had decided to let them in, but followed the dark creature all the way to the Slytherin dorms, where all but Heri's little gang fled. He kept a firm grip on his wand but only spoke again when Dracula filled a golden goblet with his own blood and handed it the suffering boy._

" _You mustn't drink that Herido!" He advised sharply, but Heri just gave him an unnerving smile. Really, Albus thought, there was no telling what the blood of the Vampire King would do!_

" _You worry too much." Heri said lightly before downing the blood in one. Most of his friends looked away in disgust, while Ron looked away in jealousy and the rest watched with morbid fascination._

" _Herido, you haven't allowed him to drink_ _ **your**_ _blood, have you?" Dumbledore's night was just getting worse._

 _Heri ignored the old man and instead closed his eyes. The rush of power flowing through his veins was euphoric. He could almost feel his body regenerating. It was much too delicious a feeling to be ruined by quarrelling adults._

" _I can't see how that would be any business of yours, Dumbledore." Dracula stood beside Heri's bed like a guard._

" _While at this school, he is my responsibility!" The argument did nothing to dim Dracula's grin._

" _Hmm, I was under the impression he had much to fear whilst under your care. Do you truly have the arrogance to claim your actions are in his best interest, when you hire teachers who attack young master Addams, and deny entry to those seeking to heal him?_

" _And why was he injured to begin with?" Dumbledore tried to brush off the other man's challenge, mostly because he had no response._

" _I was coaching him, but human bodies are so very weak." Heri suddenly grumbled something, and though no one could understand the boy who was only semi-conscious, Lord Dracula gave a low nod in his direction. It was as though he was respectfully conceding a point. "He will learn." Was all he said._

" _You're teaching Heri?!" Hermione called out in awe, but quickly ducked her head and stepped away when those laughing crimson eyes turned to her, seeming to pierce her very soul in an instant._

" _What happens at this school is my business, Lord Dracula, and I will not permit you to teach any of my students while they still attend Hogwarts." He wanted to add that any parents who didn't feel the education provided here was enough were welcome to withdraw their child, but he had enough to deal with without saying something that might be perceived as an attack on the people who'd recruited Vladimir Dracul to the position of tutor – it was unbelievable, and even more worrying was the fact that he appeared to be_ _ **deferential**_ _to a boy who – no matter how powerful and fearsome he was for his age – he could surely quash like a bug._

 _The more he learned of the Addams', the more he wished he hadn't._

" _Very well." He did a double take at the vampire's words. 'Very well'? Was that really all it took? He shook his head, deciding it was a good thing and he would therefore simply accept it for now. The Addams' never seemed to be needlessly inconsiderate, so maybe they had_ _ **asked**_ _Dracula to be similarly courteous when working on their behalf._

" _And will you answer my previous question?" He pushed. "Have you partaken of Herido Addams' blood?"_

 _For the first time Dracula's grin fell, and morphed into something more aggressive as his upper lip pulled back slightly to show a glint of fang._

" _You're an ignorant fool!" He hissed quietly, so as not to disturb his young charge. "I am covered in young master Addams' blood! I have carried him far, all the while watching it fall to the ground! You are blind! It is agony of the purest kind to be surrounded by such blood, having it fill my senses and yet restrain myself; a cruel torture to watch such blood fall to waste! Do you really believe he would be here if I could have taken it?"_

 _Dumbledore and those students present thought they'd long overcome the dread that came with hearing the name Addams, but listening to the immortal's vehement tirade the old fear returned with force._

" _Sure…" The headmaster noticed the quake in his voice and pulled himself together. If Dracula was talking, he could use the opportunity to learn more of the mysterious family. "Surely you're not suggesting the boy's blood is more valuable than your own?" It was common knowledge that Dracula did not give out his blood easily – he made people prove themselves worthy of it, he made them plead for it._

 _Any hope Dumbledore had of getting answers died when the wide grin returned, though now a little subdued._

" _You are an ignorant fool." The powerful creature repeated, "And you will die an ignorant fool."_

The memory ended, and for a moment all was still.

' _Interesting.'_ Heri clenched his jaw at Tom's response. He had decided to share the memory of last week in the hopes it would encourage Tom to be more open himself. The boy should have been impressed, as his other friends were. Heri thought it would help Tom realise the rumours around his family were well founded, and that he should be careful about playing games with a member of that family, however Tom seemed as collected as ever. He was thinking about burning the Diary…

After endless conversations Heri was still no closer to actually getting what he wanted from the Diary. Knowing he had in his hands the answers to so many of the questions he'd had since learning of the Dark Lord but not being able to access them was infuriating. He'd considered ways of torturing the Diary, but at the end of the day it was a book, with no sensory receptors, nerve endings or even a physical brain –which made psychological torture difficult as well. The Diary was Tom Riddle's domain. He'd tried writing children's poems and nursery rhymes, page after page – it was a method inspired by what he'd been subjected to in the summer, so he knew just how painful it was. But still, the only response he got was that ghastly hollowing-out feeling and he was trying to avoid that, mostly because he was getting used to it even though he knew it was probably dangerous.

He wondered whether he was simply too invested and had considered handing it over to Wednesday during winter break: his darling sister had perfected the mental discipline of staying detached, no matter the situation – in fact it was her default setting. He could also ask Grandmamma to teach him any methods she knew of soul manipulation, but he'd really rather not damage the Diary unless absolutely necessary: it would be like planting a rose garden in a swamp, it would be a crime.

No, he wouldn't ask for help. He still felt as he did when first trying to research his own Horcrux; that it was something personal and almost intimate and he didn't want to share it with anyone else.

' _Have you vampire blood? Vampire ancestry?'_ The young Lord pulled him from his thoughts.

'No, not a drop.' He replied.

' _Then how are you able to learn their techniques?'_ Tom was intrigued, but it was less about Heri and more about how he could go about also learning vampiric magics.

'Well, the power of the vampire was originally gifted by Infernus, so…' Heri pulled back his hand as he thought: it was just a journal at the end of the day, Tom could hardly share Heri's secrets as long as he retained ownership… and wasn't that what journals were for anyway – for keeping those dark secrets that can't be shared… The quill in his hand snapped in two, cutting into the tender flesh of his palm, though Heri merely took a steadying breath before taking up another and continuing. 'That compulsion charm really sneaks up on you doesn't it?' Admiration and rage battled for dominance again.

' _Come now. You can share a little of yourself.'_

'I've shared plenty! It's your turn.'

' _Nonsense. You know of my greatest secrets, it's only fair I should know yours.'_ Heri snorted to himself as he pondered that Tom was being purposefully annoying in an effort to force Heri to pass the Diary along to someone more easily manipulated – someone Tom could use to complete his work. He'd refused when Tom asked outright, and that was the only time he'd asked, but Heri still felt he was being pushed to comply.

'I thought you would know better than to expect fairness from the world.'

' _Indeed. Then how about a small wager?'_ Tom goaded, and though he wanted to kick himself for it, Heri was interested. ' _If I manage to find myself in the hands of an innocent before the end of the school year, you have to share with me your greatest secret.'_

'That's foolish of you. Surely you realise I won't allow that to happen.' Heri's mind searched for risk, but the outcome of this bet was entirely in his hands, literally, and he was confident that no one would be able to take it from him.

' _Then you have nothing to worry about.'_

'And if I win? What will you give me?'

' _A truth.'_ He glared at the now bank page: Tom Riddle was an utter bastard.

'Deal.'

The stone walls of the Slytherin common room had seemed darker lately, the green glow of the place casting eerie shadows that didn't seem quite right, not quite natural, sinister even. It was as though the environment itself was responding to Herido Addams. Beyond the sanctuary of the castle a low fog had persisted for weeks now, and the swirl of raging storm clouds threatened, but never seemed to break, instead leaving the world below devoid of sunlight and with a permanent chill that was cutting, even for a Scottish winter.

Draco, Blaise and Hermione sat on the lush rug before a roaring fire in the common room.

"That's it." Draco declared as he watched the nearby students pulling their thick cloaks tighter, but not caring that he and his friends were blocking much of the fire's warmth from reaching the rest of the room. "I'm going to have father take us somewhere warm over the holidays."

Blaise grunted. "I'll join you." It was getting late, but they knew that the second they left the fireplace to make the short journey to their dorms they'd be left shivering.

"Nott, Bulstrode," Heri suddenly called from his usual arm chair. "Why don't you go make sure the beds are adequately warmed?" It wasn't a suggestion and everyone knew it. Over the course of the last school year, the whole student population had shifted and moved with Herido's moods, and after he killed Quirrell the last of the resistance in Slytherin had started to dry up. Since the incident with the Carrow twins they had all been filled with a sense of dread at the idea of upsetting the infamous boy. And well, after the visit from Dracula many tried to avoid so much as meeting his eye.

It annoyed Heri that everyone was so fidgety and cautious around him because that made life dull, although he was starting to see the benefit of having so many servants at his beck and call. There had been no uprising on his part; he'd never said anything about being in charge of Slytherin House and made no attempt to dictate rules or interfere with everyday activities, and yet they had all started to mind him, to take notice of his affect and as it had darkened over the last month or so they were all exceptionally wary around him. No one wanted to be his outlet. He often mused that one day he'd have some fun discovering just how deep this new found 'respect' ran – what he could make them do. Besides he still had the rest of the school to play with, as they weren't quite as subdued as the Slytherins.

After clenching his teeth at being ordered around and to brace himself from the chill, Nott stood and made his way to the second year male dorms, whist hoping his assumption that Heri wouldn't want his own bed attended to was correct, because there was no telling what would happen if he so much a touched _those_ drapes. Tracy Davies made her way to the female dorms to tell Millie she'd been called upon. Heri hadn't even noticed the heavy set girl wasn't present – hers was simply the first name that came to mind.

"Aster too." Came a sleepy voice from his left. He glanced across to see locks of soft blonde hair poking out from a bundle of blankets that filled the adjacent sofa.

He frowned as he considered Daphne, and then glanced around to his other friends. He valued them all, he truly did, but they had been grating on him lately. Taking a large scorching sip of his henbane tea his mind wondered to the Diary in his pocket – the Diary that had been a wonderfully aggravating thorn in his side since he first laid his hands on it. He disliked the young Voldemort for the same reason he disliked Dr Lector: he was too clever and far too insightful, especially for a boy not much older than him.

He heard Draco call out to direct the Carrows to attend to Astoria's bed, and though the words barely registered they did draw his attention back to his friends. Tom had been challenging him about them: it seemed that anytime he got close to finding an answer young Voldemort would find a way to get under his skin.

Even deep below the castle, the great claps of thunder were clearly heard, but still, no rain fell.

He and Tom had been deep in discussion about the latter's hatred for muggleborns when Tom had suggested that Heri's emotions had clouded his judgement, and that he shouldn't lower himself to befriend any of the 'lesser' beings around him, which made Heri feel obligated to defend the strengths of his friends. It was only during this argument that he truly took time to appreciate them. Some things were obvious: The twins' sadism, Ron's aggression, Blaise's sly calculating mind, Draco's strength and drive, and Hermione's impressive scholastic aptitude and willingness to push herself.

Neville was a mental rock: once he'd pushed past the timidity he was one of only a few children their age who knew for certain who they were, and who they wanted to be. He was surrounded by the Dark Arts and all the temptation and peer pressure that went along with that, but always remained firm on how far he would go in participating, that he would give nothing more of himself in order to get stronger and so focused on defensive and healing magics. He took advantage of the darkness of his friends, but never crossed the line himself, for example, he accepted the left over 'meat' Ron provided to feed his man-eating plants, but never killed personally.

It was during his comprehensive defence of Daphne that Tom had suggested he had _feelings_ for her. That wasn't a problem for Heri, because in his family feelings and emotions were embraced as great strengths that enriched life, not to mention being incredibly powerful. Heri wasn't the romantic or needy type and hadn't given much thought to the relationships that seemed to consume the rest of the school to the point of obsession. In fact, he hadn't had a girlfriend since Wednesday had dated the Invisible Man's son when she was six, and he was curious to see if he was missing out on anything – he wasn't. Lately however it had crossed his mind once more: Wednesday had briefly dated an unfortunate boy they met at camp, and Pugsley was obviously taken with Hermione. His family were perpetually impressed that the usually guarded Herido had managed to forge so many friendships while at school, but the decision to expose himself to a relationship beyond that would be a risk – mostly to the recipient of those feelings.

After his initial description Tom had called Daphne a hare-brained doll, to which Heri had countered that he didn't see the problem with that either; that if one was presented with a living breathing doll, it would be positively immoral not to appreciate its beauty. But more than that though, she was ruthless; she was known as the Ice Queen long before Heri had met her and was generally the epitome of pureblood grace and superiority – something he thought Tom might appreciate. She wasn't a sadist by any stretch, but she also had no problem with his own sadistic nature, which left Heri wondering if she wasn't a little psychopathic. He hadn't forgotten that she'd also thrown herself before him to try and protect him from the 'Shade' last term and was good to her friends and family, so knew she wasn't ice through and though. She also never lost sight of herself during their exploration of the dark. However the thing that made Heri pause to think was that she was the one who most challenged him: he could see the fear in her eyes when she did, but even so, she was the one who most stuck to her guns, even when they set her in direct conflict with him. She was the one who had somehow convinced him to take her to a weeklong fashion show and who made it her life's mission to ensure their group was immaculate no matter how late or bloody their activities, and was often able to slice through their objections with an icy glare.

In many way's she was like his mother: caring, but ruthless; loving, but cold; the member of his family least inclined to participate in violence, but willing to watch on with a smile and effortlessly capable when the need arose; completely unashamed of who she was and what she enjoyed, even when it jarred so obviously with those around her… Heri realised he was comparing Daphne to his mother and of the Freudian field day Dr Lecter would have with that one, and stood. He needed to clear his head.

Complications aside, Heri did indeed value his friends, but over the last several weeks they weren't helping to convince him that Voldemort was altogether wrong.

Draco had stopped asking after the Diary after the first two weeks, though Heri could tell his friend was still anxious to get it back. No, now all his friends seemed to think it was their place to advise him to about the amount of time he spent 'researching' the Diary – apparently it was making him… irritable. He took no notice.

As his thoughts rounded back to Voldemort once again he started to make his way to the exit, planning to call his siblings.

"Are you going to talk to _him_ again?" Hermione asked, concerned. After seeing his glare she sighed. "Heri…"

"You know I heard Snape talking about surprise end of term tests…" He hadn't said it nastily, but the desired effect was immediate.

Hermione looked lost for a moment before she pulled herself together and cut him off. "What?! Why didn't you tell me before?"

"If he'd warned you you'd never know where your weakness lay, or what you needed to work on." Blaise tried to reason, but she was already standing to make a quick dash to the dorms.

"I'd prefer not to have any weakness at all!" She declared before leaving. Normally Herido would have applauded her attitude, but this time he used the distraction to make his own getaway.

After making his way to the forest he worked on his shadow travel – a technique he'd been trying to practice for a year but was only recently having any luck with. It would be an invaluable asset once he had it perfected, and in the meantime it was pleasantly exhausting. He practiced for hours until he finally found himself in an unfamiliar part of the forest, though it seemed the local wildlife knew him, for as he got comfortable on the hard cold ground, leaning against the rough yet damp bark of nearby oak, the avian inhabitants of the tree flew from his proximity. They'd been that way since his friends ran amok last year, which he found a little unfair, though he was not the sort to grumble about such things.

He didn't know why he'd decided not to call home, but assumed it likely had something to do with the book that sat like a rock in his robes – the book he was fighting himself not to open again today. Taking out a cigarette in the hopes of diverting his thoughts, he mused that maybe he simply had an addictive personality and therefore didn't want to be convinced to walk away from the power of the Diary – consuming though it was.

Before he truly knew what he was doing, he had the Diary in his hands, biro at the ready.

'Good night, Voldemort.' He respected the boy's wish to be called by his chosen name; after all, Heri wouldn't appreciate people calling him Harry.

' _Back so soon Herido?'_ Heri tried to ignore the mocking intent and pressed on, deciding for once to just cut straight to the point. He could already feel the intrusive presence of the Diary, just waiting to take his power. He knew Tom was trying to drain him, but played the game anyway. He tried not to give anything of himself to the diary after figuring out that was what opened him up to and made easier the process for the young Voldemort. However the Diary was damn tricky and most conversations ended when Heri was starting to feel drowsy

'I wanted to ask you something.'

' _Indeed?'_

'Do you really believe in pureblood dogma? Did you believe in it even back when you were so young.' He asked. He wanted some insight into how the young Dark Lord thought and this was pretty basic stuff. If he could at the very least discern the man's true motivations, maybe he could use it against him when they next met…

It was going to be a long night.

 **Please don't freak out at me about pairings.** **Herido is only twelve and I've left several options open, so he will probably date a few people along the way lol.**

 **Also I hoped you liked the Dracula appearance ;)**

 **xx**


	9. Chapter 9

Herido woke slowly, which was not exactly unusual, but the black plastic covering him and blocking out any light certainly was. He reached up a hand and ran a finger along the inside of a zip: a body bag. Bloody Draco! The last thing he remembered was catching the apple his blond friend had brought him when he missed breakfast – as he always did. A poison apple! That was cute (!). But was ultimately something he'd more associate with the twins: the world was doomed if they'd started to work together like that. Heri stayed silent to listen to what was going on outside and easily ascertained he was on the Hogwarts Express. He stifled a laugh at the thought of his friends heaving a body bag onto the train. It was interesting that nobody tried to stop them.

He knew the symptoms of cyanide poisoning; he was nauseous, tired enough to drift back off and he felt oh so weak. That fact he'd been given enough to knock him out meant he'd been given enough to kill anyone else a hundred times over, which in turn meant they'd had help and advice. Wednesday! He should have known not to trust that 'accepting' smile when he told his family he wouldn't be coming home for Christmas.

Normally, going home at the end of each term was something he very much looked forward to, but he wasn't finished with Tom yet, and his family would know something was going on with him the second he arrived. Damnit Wednesday would be all over this.

Carefully he sat up, the bag falling to fine threads around him.

"Heri!" Hermione called with a laugh.

"Didn't think you'd be waking up before we got back." Blaise was also in a jovial spirit. Heri frowned as he dusted himself off and looked round. The only non-Slytherin in the compartment was Neville – his friends taking up almost half of it. Noticeably absent however were Draco and the Weasleys. Kounna hissed in pleasure as she left Daphne's lap to wrap herself tightly around Heri's neck, though he paid her no mind after his brief hiss of 'traitor'.

"Where are they?" His dark tone sobered the others up a little. "What?" He asked with a sly smile. "I just wanted to congratulate them." They shared a few glances, clearly not convinced.

"They, er, the others are staying at school for Christmas." He smirked a little at Neville before shaking his head. It was smart of them, but unnecessary: he really was impressed they'd got him, even with his vicious little sister guiding their hands. It never occurred to him that they'd try anything. Still, he could hardly let his friends think he was an easy target. Peeves owed him a favour…

* * *

"Darling!" Morticia cried when Heri alighted. "Wednesday told us you'd changed your mind. I'm so glad." With a defeated sigh and a genuine smile he made his way over. "You look well rested, mi herido." His eyes were still a little bloodshot, and he was a few shades paler than even his usual pallor.

"Yes mother, I woke in a body bag." He said as he led the two of them from the busy platform, ignoring the hungry or wary looks that followed their every step.

"How fortunate. And how did you die?"

"I didn't. It was simply a rouse." She stopped to look down at him in pity.

"Well dear, you can't have everything."

The second that dank, musty smell of home reached him, Heri was cracked at the base of his skull by what felt suspiciously like the blunt of an axe. He fell, splayed to the floor, but quickly rolled over with a groan to look up at his beloved sister. However, instead of seizing this rare opportunity (for it was nearly impossible to get Herido on the floor), she simply looked down at him – head cocked to the side in confusion. There was something wrong with her brother and she didn't like it, not one bit.

"Not now children: they're waiting for us." Morticia said softly as she glided past them and into the house. Wednesday took a few more seconds to stare at him with eyes that seemed to scrutinize his very soul, before she finally turned to follow their mother, and leaving Heri to gather himself.

Heri allowed Kounna to slink to the floor before standing. He knew they'd be able to tell something was wrong, but it was only when he felt that blow to his head that he realised there actually might be. That little scene had been embarrassing, and it occurred to him that he'd been caught off guard twice within the course of a single day. It was shameful really.

Deciding to put his troubled thoughts aside for now, he went to greet his family, and by the time said greetings were concluded, Lurch was serving a magnificent feast. His mouth almost watered as the smell of alligator breast reached him – oh, how he'd missed home cooking!

"So then, what have they been doing to you at that school, son?" Gomez asked lightly between mouthfuls. Heri felt a little on edge to notice all eyes were on him as he considered his answer. It seemed Wednesday wasn't the only one to notice a change in him.

"The same as usual." He replied in the same light, conversational tone. "There's a monster on the loose though, so that's something."

"What?" Pugsley cut in with begrudging interest. "That's it. I want to change schools. Ilvermorny actual go out of their way to ensure the campus is _safe_ , but it seems like Hogwarts has a featured creature every few months!" There were murmurs of agreement around the table, and more than a few words of encouragement for the older son.

Before Pugsley could comment any further, Grandmamma threw the conversation by asking where on earth Heri had acquired another Horcrux. Heri carefully placed down his cutlery, no longer hungry, before recounting the events leading up to his possession of the Diary.

"So you _stopped_ the attacks?" Wednesday asked with a frown. Heri just shrugged.

"Of course. I'm not doing Voldemort's dirty work. If I choose to attack the school I'll have a better reason than killing muggleborns. I just thought he could… widen my skillset." He defended, his face crunched up in distaste, which only caused his father the laugh joyously.

"See, what did I tell you? A manic – a megalomaniac in the making! Ha!" There were mutterings of agreement around the table, as though it were merely a comment on the weather.

"Well, why don't we have a chat with him then?" Grandmamma suggested merrily, before downing her nettle wine in one gulp and then spitting into the empty goblet. Heri was watching on in a little confusion and growing trepidation as she started adding seemingly random items to the liquid that was beginning to bubble like boiling water, or spitting acid.

She looked across to Heri expectantly. "Well, let's have it then. If this Horcrux is sentient, let's have a look at him." He considered refusing – as always he didn't want to share this with anyone else, but there was no doubt this could be a great opportunity and so in the end he handed over the Diary. Grandmamma laid it carefully on a silk cloth and poured her potion over it. The acid like substance immediately started to eat away at the silk, but the diary was seemingly unaffected, though it started to glow an eerie almost sickly green, and then suddenly there was a flash of blinding light and stood beside the table, clear as day, was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Tom looked down at his hands in confusion. Draining power from the Addams boy had been strangely easy, much easier than with the Weasley girl, and while it was curious, he had decided to just go with it and write it off as something to do with the boy's unusual powers. Even so, he was nowhere near ready to take physical form…

"Mr Voldemort, welcome to our home." Morticia said graciously as she stood to greet the teenager as though it the most normal thing in the world for guests to suddenly appear from within books. "You must be famished. Won't you partake of our humble table?" She asked with flourish.

Tom looked across the 'humble' table – it was chocked full of various dishes, and not a single one looked at all appetising. The woman who'd spoken was deathly pale, and was quickly joined by who he assumed to be her husband. He took her hand tenderly in his own.

"Tish, you're always the perfect hostess." He said reverently, before pulling her close.

"Later Gomez, we have company."

"Ah, yes!" The man spun quickly to face Voldemort, who was feeling more out of place as the seconds ticked by. "Voldemort old boy, a pleasure to have you here." The young Lord could do nothing as his hand was taken in an enthusiastic handshake. "Herido's told us all about you of course. Never did quite get over that obsession, did you son?" He teased. It was only then that Voldemort followed the man's eye line and caught sight of the latest owner of his diary. He almost stepped back from the triumphant smirk the boy was sending him.

Heri was more than satisfied with the situation as he considered how much easier getting information from an actual flesh and blood body might be.

"Now, you know Herido, of course…" Gomez was cut off by his brother, who bounded over like an excited child to greet the newcomer.

"Hi!" Fester shouted. Tom could tell there was something off about this man – he could just _feel_ he was dangerous, though maybe he was simply feeling uncomfortable having the man so close; he was right up in his face, grinning like a maniac. "I'm Fester, how do you do?"

"Now, now, Fester, don't be selfish." Chided another voice and when he turned to the old hag it took all his self-control to remain impassive. "I'm the one who conjured you." The woman informed him, batting her eyelashes as she spoke. He couldn't suppress the shudder this time.

"Show off!" Fester called as he made his way back to his place at the table.

"Well, sit down then. We don't bite!" The old woman cackled as she shuffled down a little and conjured another chair with a wave of her hand. Normally, he would have been intrigued by this incredible magic, but her next words left him completely numb to it. "Unless you want me to." He imagined the woman thought the smile she was going for was 'sweet'… he wanted to run away.

So caught up in his increasingly disturbed thoughts was he, that he almost jumped clear into the air when a gong sounded so loudly it shook the house.

"You rang?" He turned once more and decided Herido must simply be playing some horrific trick on him in order to tease out information – everything was just too bizarre to be anything else. The latest addition to the scene was taller than even the teenage half giant at school, looked like a corpse and groaned as though his every move was painful.

"Lurch, please arrange another setting for our guest." The woman from earlier commanded, before noticing his widened eyes. "Dear Lurch is our butler." She informed helpfully. "He's very good."

Just as he was trying to get his head around everything that was going on, a persistent squeaky chattering drew his attention away yet again. Sat at the foot of the table, making the nonsense sounds was a moving mound of… hair? He fell into the proffered seat, and barely noticed when the walking dead butler returned to place dishes, glasses and cutlery before him.

"I need to sit down." He finally spoke, though his voice was quiet and a little strained. He thought he could adapt to any situation, but this was madness.

"You are sitting down." The little girl sitting beside Herido appeared to be just as excited as that Fester character, though her excitement was all in her eyes – he could see it glittering mischievously within those bottomless pits and the effect was altogether more unnerving than the bald man's. "I'm Wednesday." She said.

"It's nice to meet you Wednesday." He was glad his voice held so strong, but the more he talked and the more nothing insane happened, the more at ease he felt. Well, maybe 'at ease' wasn't the right phrase, but he was too busy wondering how to fight off these ghouls without a wand to think of anything better.

"This is my baby brother, Pubert." He'd barely given the toddler a glance when he had to duck to avoid the flaming arrow. He had no idea where that had even come from. "And this is our other brother, Pugsley."

"How do you do?" The eldest child held out his hand, and Voldemort reached out on autopilot to take it, only to gasp in horror as it came loose!

"I, I…" His brain desperately searched for reason and logic, but came up blank, so he was somewhat grateful to hear the children's snickers.

"That's our marvellous Thing. He's always so playful." The mother stepped in to introduce the animated hand… it had to just be an animated hand… but it moved with such agility and seemed to know Morse code…

"Would… I'm sorry to impose, but would it be possible to lie down for a while?" He felt much more like Tom Riddle than he did Voldemort at that moment.

"But of course!" The woman returned. She reached up to pull a silver thread as it appeared above her and that awful gong rang out once more. Soon after the butler reappeared. "Lurch, please show Mr Voldemort to a guest room."

And not able to do anything else at that moment, he followed Lurch out of the room, trying to ignore the woman's voice that just about reached him: "Well, he's an odd one isn't he?"

The young Voldemort sat on the edge of a bed he suspected was trying to swallow him and looked across to the door that had just been closed – dear god, it had bars on the window! He had never felt more overwhelmed, so he took five minutes to shift through his thoughts in order to make sense of what was happening: This was obviously the Addams boy's family, and from what he'd seen they did indeed practise a type of magic he'd not come across before. The fact that they'd given him form meant that it was just as powerful a magic as he'd been led to believe. Once he'd figured out that much, he knew he couldn't waste the opportunity being here presented him with, and quickly managed to pull himself together.

The day after his arrival he'd been informed that his manifestation was only temporary, so he wasted no time and the next time he saw the family he was back to his charming self, even enduring the not so subtle flirting from Grandmamma with grace. He'd been surprised when they gave him a spare wand, but he'd already discerned these people didn't see him as a threat. He chose the wand that best suited him from a box filled with maybe two dozen and they explained it was likely from 'some auror or another'. Apparently many of the enforcers of wizarding law that visited this house quit their jobs before leaving. The house itself was a treasure trove of magic and artefacts, and he tried to sneak away as much as possible to explore. It never even crossed his mind to leave – there was too much to learn here, though he found out the hard way that there was also danger around every corner.

Wednesday was the most helpful in showing him around the house, though he wondered continuously whether she was simply trying to get him killed.

They walked together towards the library while she asked about what vicious things he had planned for muggleborns and light wizards, when he was suddenly attacked from below. The girl just laughed as he struggled to free his foot from their bearskin rug's jaws.

"Don't mind Bruno, he's just hungry." He said nothing – he'd quickly decided it was best not to think on these things too much – and once he'd cleared the killer rug he carried on down the long hallway. Once they reached the library doors they paused.

"Uncle Alfred!" Wednesday called, waking the shrunken head hanging from the door knob. The Head's eyes and mouth were sewn shut, but it swung in the child's direction before letting out a muffled huff, and the doors swung open. Voldemort shouldn't have been surprised, he really shouldn't, but he couldn't help gawp at it for a few moments before entering.

"I can show you how to make one if you like – a shrunken head. It's very easy." The girl really was _too_ helpful.

"Maybe later." He replied politely, while his eyes hungrily took in the endless, no doubt priceless books in front of them.

… Of course she didn't warn him that most were too dark for the teenager and would try to kill him if he so much as touched them. By the time Lurch came to announce supper, he was exhausted and perhaps a little less sane than he was hours earlier. Seeing this, Uncle Fester offered to recharge him, but when he brought out an actual generator and tried to plug it into Voldemort's ear he hastily declined the _kind_ offer. Supper that night was eye of tadpole – it was a good thing that Horcruxes were nearly indestructible, he told himself. If the food poisoned him he could hightail it back to the Diary! There was also a concern that it appeared to be a common occurance for members of the house to suddenly start duelling and the like across the table, though he was more concerned that he was starting to get used to it.

* * *

"What do you mean 'it can tell or show you anything'" Tom asked as he sat at the table beside Heri, staring at the glowing screen before them.

"I mean what I said; watch." Heri leaned over and hit a button. "How hot is the sun?" He asked the computer – shushing the mini Dark Lord when he opened his mouth, thinking he was being addressed and ready to answer. When the automated voice gave its answer Voldemort couldn't help but be interested.

"And _muggles_ built this, you say?" He asked in distaste, which much to his chagrin only caused the other boy to laugh.

"Yes. They really are quite ingenious when they want to be."

"And this doesn't worry you? That they've come so far? They were destruct fools back in the forties; surely a thing like this would only make them all the more dangerous!"

Heri's gleeful smile did nothing to quell his fears. "Oh yes, they could easily destroy the whole world if they wanted to." Voldemort didn't react to his words at all, because he knew that's what the boy wanted. Instead he carefully ran his fingers across the keyboard, before proceeding to explore this new muggle devise thoroughly. By the time he was done he'd come to appreciate just how far the world had come in fifty years, and although he still believed the muggles were too dangerous to be allowed to live, he had to begrudgingly respect their achievements.

When it came time for him to return to the Diary he'd learnt enough to keep him busy for years. However, even though he'd had free reign of the house, he was no closer to figuring out the Addams' power. Even so, he was more determined than ever to get free and reunite with his master soul.

'So, how did you like my family?' Heri asked a few days before the start of term.

' _They were most… accommodating.'_ Was Tom's calculated reply. _'I'd be happy to visit again, should your grandmother wish to release me once more.'_ Heri scoffed at the suggestion. He could only imagine how hungry Tom was to learn more. Heri had managed to glean some opinions and thought processes from the Dark-Lord-in-the-making over these holidays. Unfortunately he'd only got him in the playroom once after Tom had complained of a bad back and he'd offered to 'stretch' it out. Since then the teen was careful not to complain or be led anywhere near the room again.

He had been impressed by charm and charisma Tom had displayed in such an overwhelming situation: to find himself suddenly with form, in the company of powerful wizards and in a world utterly foreign to the one he'd known. He was also surprised at how civil he'd been – only once had he drawn his wand against Heri and after a darkly biting warning from Heri he'd backed down with grace. They obviously both knew the situation was too big an opportunity to waste on petty quarrelling. Heri now knew for sure that Voldemort was only playing on the purebloods' paranoia and sense of entitlement to gain access to their wealth and influence, and that he was damn good at playing people. He truly did despise muggles, but being a half blood more powerful than any of his 'friends', he didn't truly believe in blood rank the way he claimed to. However manipulation wasn't his only motivation.

Herido was hoping keep the dialogue open, but in his enthusiasm it only took half an hour before he pushed too far.

'So really, you're just clinging to a sense of family identity and ancestry with your whole anti 'mudblood' agenda.' At this insinuation the sucking feeling grew stronger and Heri had to fight through his blurred vision that resulted from the terrible headache. 'Hey, it's ok. I understand.' He wrote shakily. 'Slytherin was a great man and if he was all I had to find a sense of belonging I would probably…' He dropped his pen as the pain became worse than ever – it was torturous – would have been magnificent really if Heri wasn't the one affected. Voldemort just really didn't appreciate being humanised in any way, did he?

Heri pressed a hand against his scar, only to feel blood seeping through his fingers. Almost in slow motion he watched it drop onto the open page of the Diary on his lap. Time snapped the other way and everything happened at once; his eyes rolled back as his power flowed unhindered into the Diary, and just before he passed out his natural defences kicked in – an invisible force tossing the Dairy across the room where it closed upon landing – and then everything was black.

Over the following days, Heri researched and asked all he could in the hopes of finding a way to block the power of the Diary but also continue to use it. He found nothing. Blood was powerful – his blood even more so – and it had allowed Tom to forge a direct channel with Heri. Draining his power had already been made easier due to Heri's own Horcrux, but now Tom could effortlessly drain his life force too: If he continued to use the Diary he would be offering his life on a silver platter, which was something Herido was simply not going to do.

Realising he had no other choice, Heri resigned himself to the fact he'd have to negotiate with Tom. He sat on the scarred wooden floor beside his bed, ready to slam the Diary shut at a moment's notice, and carefully flicked it open.

Nothing – that was a good sign.

' _You left so abruptly after our last conversation. Are you alright, Herido?'_ Heri could just see Tom's smug, self-satisfied face, but supposed if the situation was reversed he'd be feeling pretty good about it too. No, it irked him more that Tom assumed he wouldn't simply destroy the Diary. While corporal, Tom had accepted Heri was a force to be reckoned with, but apparently saw no danger. He couldn't know him _that_ well, could he?

When he didn't respond straight away Tom continued: _'It's too late. I have you now.'_

Heri smirked darkly at the blank page. 'It's not even close to being too late. You must know I have things at my disposal that can destroy you. I'd hate to do it, but I will destroy this Diary before I allow you to drain me. I am not going to sacrifice myself for your little crusade.'

There was a brief pause before Tom responded, trying to change the subject a little after he decided it was best not to let Herido think on it too much. _'I am curious about how I can make you bleed. Do you have any theories?'_ He was sure the boy's family would have a few.

'None that I'd care to share.' Heri replied easily. He was nervous as to why Tom wasn't going in for the kill, that he wasn't trying to take as much power as possible while he had the opportunity.

As if reading his thoughts, there was a quick, but violent, surge of power that left him fuzzy for a moment. If it hadn't passed so quickly, he would have closed the book.

' _That does leave us at an impasse, though doesn't it?'_ Ah, now Heri understood – Tom was making a point. _'I wish to break free from these pages and complete my work, though you will not tolerate my using your power to do this. For reasons unknown you wish to learn from me, but I will tell you nothing while you continue to deny me. So give me to someone I can use, and maybe once I have a body once again we can talk – as we did during my recent visit. Give me back to Ginny Weasley: I would despise having to take the time working on someone new - listening to their pathetic dreams and worries!'_

Dammit, Heri thought, Tom was good. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to push Heri into giving it to him. Heri knew that Tom would never stop trying to break free, and that he'd therefore have to always be tiringly vigilant every time he opened the Diary. He could keep the Diary hidden safely away of course, but wasn't sure he could trust himself not to go back to it. It was just too powerful. He also knew it would be a waste of time to keep trying to reach Tom through the Diary – that talking to Tom face to face on equal ground was the easiest way deal with him.

He closed the book without giving his answer, but had decided to hand it over to someone Tom could use. He didn't care in the least about Tom's ambitions in the school, but knew he couldn't let him return to Voldemort – not yet: He couldn't take on the Dark Lord anytime soon, but having sixteen year old Tom Riddle around would be interesting.

He decided to just stop thinking about it and see how things went.

* * *

On board the Hogwarts Express, Heri lit a cigar as he listened to the excited chatter around him.

"Really, Heri, do you have to smoke that in here? It stinks!" Hermione moaned when a plume of smoke hit her face.

"Oh, it's good for you." He said with a smile, trying not to laugh at the disgusted faces around him. He turned to the window and a small hole appeared in the glass, which effectively drew out the smoke. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." She replied dead pan. All his friends queried why they hadn't been invited over for the holiday rituals this year, but instead of telling all he chose a half-truth.

"We already had company."

He was so caught up in catching up with his friends that the Diary didn't cross his mind until he reached the carriages and saw Luna softly petting a thestral. He grinned, thinking about how agonising it would be for Tom to have to listen and get to know the peculiar girl. She would do. Unfortunately, when he tried to give her the Diary, she gave him an unnervingly knowing smile.

"But you made a promise, Herido." And just like that she walked away, leaving him to wonder what she meant. When he did realise he wanted to kick himself: why would he promise Snape his actions wouldn't lead to any deaths this year?! If he gave the Diary to a student, it was likely some poor muggleborn would end up dead. Finding out how Luna knew about that promise could wait for another time.

He shared his troubles with his friends during the ride to the castle.

"Well, what about inaction?" Blaise offered, both intriguing and confusing Heri. See this, he went on: "If you're concerned your actions may lead to someone getting killed, do nothing." He learned forward, away from the others and whispered into Herido's ear: "The twins say Ginny has been beside herself since losing the Diary, trying to come up with ways to get it back, so let her. Do nothing if she tries and let her steal it."

Heri's pleased smile made even his friends uncomfortable. And Tom had said his friends were worthless!


	10. Chapter 10

Severus watched his students with well concealed pride and well displayed concern, not for their wellbeing, but for the future… They were making outstanding progress in their capacity to handle the Dark Arts. He'd expected Addams and the cannibalistic Weasley to excel, but had been side-blinded with how proficient the others were. Maybe he shouldn't have been – after all he was aware they'd been studying other forms of Dark magic for some time now.

"Professor? This isn't working at all. What am I doing wrong?" He walked over to assist Addams. He would deny it under torture, but he did truly enjoy teaching these children – even Addams. The boy was focused and respectful and surprisingly he wasn't stubbornly prideful about asking for help when he needed it. This attitude had rubbed off on the others, and now even his godson would happily concede his weaknesses in order to overcome them, learn and grow stronger – though only in friendly company of course. Addams general arrogance was even starting to aggravate him less and less the more time he spent with the boy. It also helped that he could gloat internally about just what James Potter would say to seeing his son being taught by Snape and casting all these wicked spells so eagerly.

After practicing for some time, Snape told them to break up into pairs in order to duel – something they hadn't done before, at least not in front of the potions master. He had them duelling one pair at a time, because that's all he could handle keeping his eyes on at once. If any of these children landed one of the more damaging curses, he'd only have seconds to intervene, and he really didn't feel like explaining to Dumbledore why his students were in critical condition, or, well, dead.

When asked why Snape had chosen now to allow them to turn their wands on each other, he informed them of the duelling club Lockhart was setting up, and that none of the twelve students present were to attend.

"What? Why not?" They cried together, all thinking this was a great opportunity to test their skills against someone new.

Heri understood this duelling club was likely introduced to quell the growing fear within the student population since another student had been petrified a week prior, and to give them a sense of control in this uncertain situation. It was all psychological. Participating in a duelling club would hardly prepare them to face Slytherin's monster.

He did wonder what Tom was up to right now… Surely an attack a day would be of greater impact…

"It's not like we would use any of these spells." Blaise argued helpfully as he gestured towards the evisceration hex narrowly missing Daphne.

"You cannot know that for sure. You can't always stay in control in the heat of the moment, and I am not willing to take the chance that you will expose yourselves. Or me!" Heri's face scrunched up in distaste at the insinuation that he couldn't remain calm under pressure, or indeed that he or any of his friends could be made to feel cornered by their fellow students.

Snape sighed as he watched the glances being sent to Addams, and suspected he would have a fight on his hands when he saw the small smile break out on the boy's face.

"Perhaps we could just attend one meeting?" Blaise pushed after understanding Heri wasn't going to back down on this. "I think that will be enough to prove ourselves." And ensure the entire school understood his group of friends were not to be messed with, even on an individual level.

Snape opened his mouth to object, but was cut off by an unwanted but now familiar guest.

"Perhaps this could be a test of self-control. And if they do use any Dark spells, they'll be expelled and you won't have to deal with them anymore professor." Snape quietly fumed about being exposed to the strange first year again, but the consideration of her words flickered through his mind without his permission. He would certainly sleep better if this band of dangerous children were thinned out just a little…

"What are you doing here, Miss Lovegood?" He asked with a dark drawl.

A spell flew passed the intruder, leaving a large gash in the tree behind her and Snape spun to call a pause to Draco and Daphne's duel, somewhat to the relief of the children who were panting from exertion.

"I just came by to say hello, Professor." She looked across to Heri, much to the annoyance of Snape, for he was the one she should be looking to for permission. "And to see if I couldn't join this little club." She smiled blankly at Herido's suspicious frown. Nobody in this 'little club' knew Luna personally and were therefore far from willing to let her join them in their illegal activities.

"You told us you are unwilling to learn Dark Magic." He challenged.

"I am, though now that you're duelling I could practice fighting against it." She replied easily.

"How did you know…"

"You wouldn't stand a chance against us!" Ron declared, and the others nodded in agreement. There was just no way some Light-loving first year could hold her own against them after everything they'd learned.

"Well, that's why I need to practice. Let me prove my worth, Herido. Duel me." Everyone broke down in laughter and even Snape had to fight valiantly to stop the pull of his lips. This girl fight Addams? Ha!

"You'll have to work up to fighting Heri!" Astoria cried after she'd wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'd be more than happy to face you in the meantime Loony." The twins were taking bets before the challenge had even been accepted; their eyes alight with sadistic glee.

Heri turned to Snape with a grin. "What do you think, professor? It might be entertaining." And Snape acquiesced with a long sigh and a wave of his hand. Lovegood had proved herself trustworthy – might as well see what she was made of.

With a wickedly please grin, Aster stepped up to take a bow, a bow that was returned by a carefree Luna while the betting was called to a close and the rest of the group fell silent.

"Incarcerous!" Luna cast with a speed admired by even Heri, but Aster just about managed to roll away. Standing as part of the circle around them, Daphne didn't blink as she intently watched her sister, ready to step in and kill the Ravenclaw girl if Astoria was injured and for once not caring a bit that her clothes were ruined as she avoided the spell."Petrificus Totalus!" This time Aster was ready and threw up a shield, scampering up before taking aim.

"Sectumsempra!" Luna spun out of the way with the grace of a ballerina, but Aster was on a roll. She didn't have Luna's speed or reflexes, but she wasn't afraid of casting every spell she knew and did not hold back. "Exentera! Infringo! Debilito!" She fired curse after curse, but Luna dodged or blocked every spell, moving quickly and looking utterly ridiculous as she danced about in order to avoid being hit. When it looked like Aster finally had her, she pointed her wand to the floor and cast a blasting spell – effectively throwing herself back by the force of it. "Expelliarmus! Diripio!"

"Stupefy! Locomotor Mortis!" Aster screamed in embarrassment and frustration as the Leg Locker hit her, leaving her unable to dodge. Whatever, she thought. It's not like dodging was her strength anyway. She raised a shield and waited for an opening. When she found one, she was relentless. She knew if she didn't end the fight with this barrage she would lose.

"Debilito! Expulso! Expelliarmus! Impedimenta! Sectumsempra!" She was so focused on her next move it took her a few moments to realise she'd gotten Luna with the disarming charm. With a relieved sigh she fell back and waited for someone to free her. Snape had taught them all the counters to the things they were learning, but she had been more interested in the offensive spells. This experience had at least taught her not to overlook such things.

"The House always wins!" George cried happily as Fred gathered their winnings.

Snape ignored them and waited until Lovegood had gathered herself before speaking. "How do you know so many spells, Miss Lovegood? You certainly haven't covered them all in school yet."

"You let yourself get hit by the disarming charm." Heri noted. "Why?"

"I thought it prudent to learn how to defend myself." She told Snape before turning to answer Herido: "I believed I would get hit by Astoria's next spell and thought it better to lose to an Expelliarmus than to something nastier. That spell threw me out of range of the others." Everyone considered her answer. Most of them couldn't think so many steps ahead in the middle of a duel, and they'd been practicing with each other for months. Maybe there was more to this girl than met the eye.

"Ok." Heri said at length. "You can join us here. But you really don't want to learn the Dark Arts? I think you're wasting a rare opportunity."

"I told you, I can't learn Dark Magic. I just want to be able to defend against it. You see, even being subjected to Dark Magic leaves traces, and I can't have that."

"Why?" Her only answer to that question was an eerie smile.

* * *

The weeks passed but the clouds remained, leaving the temperature arctic, and so the few Slytherins brave enough to stay in the common room continued to huddle for warmth beneath blankets and heat charmed clothing. All apart from Heri's group, who took the highly desired seating before the fire without shame.

"You know everyone still thinks we're responsible for the attacks." Daphne said, bringing up the subject of Voldemort's Diary yet again, much to Heri's annoyance. They'd had a fit when he told them the Diary had been returned, but they were slowly coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

Heri bet Ginny was boring the Dark Lord to tears…

"And Ginny is starting to look ill again. It's only a matter of time before the Weasleys decide it's too much and take the diary from her again. Then what will you do with it?" Draco asked, obviously wanting a confirmation that Heri would eventually be returning it to his father. Heri however was still trying to decide on a method to contain Tom if he achieved corporeal form again.

"Heri, do you have a plan here?" Daphne asked, her tone clearly telling him she didn't think so.

"Why should I have a plan? Let's just see how it goes." Seeing the disapproving frowns, he continued: "It's cinema vérité. Enjoy it."

"Look Heri, it's not like I particularly care one way or another about what the Dark Lord is trying to do, but you don't piss in your own pool, you know? What happens at Hogwarts affects us all." Blaise continued to push.

"What do you mean you don't care either way?" Hermione hissed. "He's trying to rid the school of people like me! You don't care about that?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, because he was maybe the only one here who did care. He was slowly coming round to the idea of using people for sacrificial magic, but still had a problem with people getting hurt for no good reason, or possibly even killed.

Thankfully Vince answered for him. "Not particularly. It's not like he's going to hurt _you_! Nor will he be able to attack every muggleborn at Hogwarts."

"I don't think we need to worry about losing a generation of them any time soon." Draco added.

"So it's ok for just a few of 'them' to be killed? Am I a 'them'?"

"Oh stop being so sensitive 'Mione, it's nothing personal…"

Heri stopped listening, but smiled as his friends argued about the value of muggleborns. They all agreed in their equality but somehow still managed to find a way to argue about it. Really, Heri was impressed by their ability to bicker about absolutely anything. He also knew that their main concern about the young Voldemort being set loose again was the vessel he'd been given: Ginny. They didn't like the thought that Herido would throw one of their own under the bus.

* * *

Heri was bored, which was never a good thing. He sat alone beside the fire of the common room, which was still roaring even though it was almost 3am. In an effort to retain a little natural heat, the fires had been kept lit for months now. He was also irritated about the whole fiasco surrounding the Diary, and an irritated Herido was even less of a good thing. This week his friends had _finally_ backed off after he assured them that no serious harm would come to Ginny (an assurance, not a promise), but he wondered whether in the future he should explore these things alone. He had long ago accepted that having friends greatly enriched his life and experience of school, whether they were learning together or whether they were trying to give him a headache. He appreciated it all. And they'd given him an opportunity to try out the new strain of Grandmamma had created. They effects were better than expected and had kept Draco and the Weasleys in the hospital wing for the duration of winter break. However they were all at different stages in their exploration of the Dark and he sometimes forgot they might have objections to things he found as natural as breathing.

Today though, it had been Dumbledore's turn to try to ruin his enjoyment of the Tom Riddle/Diary experiment, and he did not appreciate this from a man for whom he had no natural affection.

He'd been called into the headmaster's office and asked outright whether he had any knowledge of the Chamber of Secrets or of Slytherin's monster, and though Heri had been able to duck and dive and avoid answering the man directly, he had been left with a dreadfully dull headache.

So all in all, his bad mood had absolutely _nothing_ to do with any kind of withdrawal. He had absolutely _not_ become addicted to using the Diary, or to the infuriating games he and the young Voldemort had taken to playing. Nor were his thoughts being constantly being drawn back to said Diary.

A harsh pop resounded throughout the empty room, snapping Heri from his thoughts.

The elf that appeared was only spared death-by-kunai due to the incredible magic of the house elves. Heri sniffed, the interruption having only served to increase his irritation. The elf could have at least had the decency to bleed a little. He considered the shocked wide eyed creature for a moment.

"Elf, retrieve the knife and come here." He commanded as he waved a hand to summon a desk chair from across the room, and placing it in front of the arm of his own chair. "Jump up. I don't want to have to bend my neck to look at you." He said with distain and a nod to the chair. Seeing as the elf was here he might as well help Heri relax. The elf complied, though its confusion was evident. He took the knife. "Hold out your hand and spread your fingers."

Heri lifted the knife and slowly sliced through the delicate webbing between its fingers.

The elf squeaked, and was about to pull it's hand away until he noticed the dark look in the student's eye. "P-Please, I…"

"Don't speak without invitation elf! I'm in no mood for it." Heri had no idea how the castle managed to run with such efficiency having such strange elves. Then again their master, Dumbledore, was an odd one too. He took a trembling finger and proceeded to make another cut. Why was it trembling? He'd seen his elves iron their own hands – surely that was infinitely more painful than a few little cuts! Dumbledore must have broken this one with his strange ideas.

"Now, care to tell me why you appeared before me without being summoned?" He asked, thinking he should probably find out if it had been sent for him, or had a message or something.

"Ninky is here to clean the Slytherin common room." Heri looked up sharply. "S-Sir." It amended. The Hogwarts elves were definitely spoiled, but at least this one could still remember its place.

Heri thought for a moment. "Do you always clean in here, or is there a rota?" Knowing the elves could be beneficial, he thought while absently gesturing for the other hand. The elf let out another squeak and Heri looked up to see it trying to bolster its courage – its hand held tightly down by its side.

"S-Sir, Hogwarts elves are only to answer to the headmaster. Students are not to punish elves." Closing his eyes, Heri let out a long breath. The nerve of this elf, challenging his authority!

Without opening his eyes he leaned back into his chair. "Tilly." He called softly, and then waited, knowing it would take a few moments for her to answer him as she made multiple jumps to cover such a long distance. Finally she popped in and at once noticed the dark mood of her master. She dipped into a low bow.

"Yes, master? You called for Tilly, master?" She asked immediately. Heri put a hand to his head and cracked an eye open to look down at her.

"Take this elf back to the house and have him punished for insolence, then come back here and clean this room. Return him in a few hours – I think that should be enough. You may go." He spoke with sharp clipped words.

"Yes Sir." She looked at her fellow elf in pity, but moved to obey, grabbing him quickly when she noticed he was about to pop out.

"Wait! I can't leave Hog…" And they were gone.

Ninky had done nothing to alleviate his mood, but no matter, he had a suitcase full of criminals at his disposal. He was glad he'd thought ahead and resourced Hermione's victims before school this year!

* * *

The next day Herido was called in to see Dumbledore again. Apparently Ninky had gone running to its master the second he returned that morning.

He walked in to the headmaster's office to find the old man finishing up with Lockhart, and when the sorry excuse for a Defence professor caught sight of him he paled dramatically before stuttering out an excuse and making a quick get away, leaving Heri to chuckle quietly. Dealing with Lockhart was something else he needed to get round to sooner or later – he had all but promised him a gloriously horrific deathday after all.

"Mr Addams, please take a seat." Dumbledore didn't present Herido with much of his grandfatherly façade anymore. His face was hard and unyielding as he watched the boy get comfortable. "Herido we need to discuss what happened with Ninky last night."

"Oh?" Heri asked with feigned ignorance, which made the old man frown.

"I am shocked and disappointed in your behaviour. That is not how we treat elves at Hogwarts, and students are not permitted to deal with them at all." As expected, the Addams boy didn't look at all abashed.

"Excuse me, headmaster. I was in a bad mood." He said dismissively by way of explanation, though by the deepening of Dumbledore's frown lines it wasn't convincing him. "If you require compensation for the lack of productivity today, I'm more than happy to have father send money." Dumbledore didn't know whether to be angry or to despair. What he did know was that he didn't want the Addams patriarch involved directly.

The disappointed old man of authority approach clearly wasn't having an impact, so he began to use an altogether harsher tone. "That is not the point or problem Mr Addams." The new tone made Heri look up, and Dumbledore was sorely tempted to take a peek into his mind, though he instantly thought better of it. Merlin knows what defences the mind of an Addams had. "You cannot torture our elves, or anything else for that matter. Not even if you are in a bad mood." He qualified after seeing Heri about to speak. "Now, I'm going to have to suspend you. For two weeks." He watched closely for Herido's reaction – mostly to glean any indication of how his parents would react to this punishment.

Heri thought about it for a moment. He supposed it was only fair – he had been neglectful after all, not ensuring the elf's silence. "Very well." Dumbledore almost wanted him to fight this. He still had no clue about how this news would be received and the last thing he needed was any more Addams turning up – he'd dealt with enough for a lifetime. Herido sent him a knowing look that made him deeply uncomfortable. "Don't worry, headmaster. I can use the time to recommence my lessons with Dracula." Oh great, now Dumbledore was enabling the promulgation of the Dark Arts. He sighed.

"Perhaps…" He was interrupted when his office door flew open, and Snape all but tumbled over the threshold, his face unreadable, though the manner of his entrance told the two present that something was very wrong. "Severus? What..?"

"There has been a death, headmaster. The creature has killed a student." Dumbledore's face turned to stone, while Heri fought to keep the excitement from his. He didn't revel in the wasted loss of magical life, but Tom had stepped up his game and this was an interesting development.

"Who died?" He asked.

"You are dismissed, Mr Addams." Dumbledore snapped, standing to follow Severus out, not doubt to investigate the body.

Heri followed discretely until he heard the name of the deceased: Penelope Clearwater. Hmm, Percy Weasley's girlfriend – someone loosly connected to him that made him think the target had been deliberate, perhaps Tom's way of saying 'hello', but no one he believed his friends would be mourning. He could live with that.

xx


	11. Chapter 11

"So you're _not_ suspended?" Neville asked incredulously as the twelve students made their way into the frosty clearing. The year was getting along, but as the heavy clouds around Hogwarts had yet to break or disperse the spring flowers had failed to bloom. Snape had only come here on the off chance his students decided to show up, but now they were actually here he knew he never should have doubted it – of course this lot would never let a little thing like a death stop them.

"What?" Draco asked with a laugh as he threw an arm over Neville's shoulders. "You didn't really believe the old goat would get away with trying to suspend an Addams, did you?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "It's incredible really: Dumbledore tries to suspend Herido, and ends up getting suspended himself." Snape allowed himself a frown as he listened to the children. 'Incredible' was one way to describe it. It did seem that whenever someone thought they had an Addams pinned down they suffered some personal defeat, some catastrophe. Only this wasn't a like for like consequence. Dumbledore had indeed been suspended, but he'd also taken major damage to his credibility: His reputation and influence had protected him thus far, but with this latest tragedy two children under his care had been murdered in as many years, as had one teacher, and he couldn't survive that. People en masse began thinking Dumbledore had lost his edge, and unless he could do something to improve his standing Snape didn't think it would be long before the man was relieved of many of his other duties too.

The suspension had been delivered by Lucius the day following Clearwater's death, and Snape believed his old friend had waited until dinner to make his appearance just to increase his enemy's humiliation. By sheer coincidence it was also the day Hagrid returned to the school after the counter to his curse was finally discovered:

 _Heri hadn't felt anything when the grounds keeper returned while he sprinkled a few salted crickets over his oxtail soup. As far as he was concerned the man had paid for his crime. The half-giant was as much a bulk as he ever was wrapped in his numerous furs, but his gaunt face showed the toll his stay in hospital had taken._

" _Draco, what's your dad doing here?" Greg asked, causing the entire group, as well as several nearby Slytherins to look across to Lord Malfoy, who was now strutting across to Dumbledore at the head table and obviously fully aware that he had hundreds of eyes on him._

 _Lucius look decidedly smug and satisfied as he smiled at the aged man. "Dumbledore." He said by way of greeting._

" _Lucius," Albus returned, already knowing what the blond had come here to say. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"_

" _Dreadful thing, but following recent events the governors have decided it's time for you to step aside. Given your record in the last few years, we rather feel you've lost your touch." With flourish he produced a long roll of parchment from his robes. "This is an Order of Suspension - you'll find all twelve signatures on it." The hall full of students took a collective gasp, before breaking into scandalous murmuring._

" _Now see here Lucius," Minerva stood, her frosty glare pinning the Malfoy Lord in place. "If Dumbledore hasn't been able to…"_

" _Perhaps we could continue this conversation in my office." Albus broke in, thinking the students didn't need to hear this._

" _Your office?" Lucius asked with a sly smile. "Well, I suppose you will need to clear out your belongings." And with that he turned to lead a handful of worried teachers from the room._

And that was the last any of the students saw of their headmaster. Snape at least was glad that Albus hadn't had chance to arrange Herido's suspension, because with the old man gone the school really needed all the help it could get. He had no illusions that Addams would volunteer to protect the school any time soon, but he was certain the boy would at least protect his muggleborn friend and given his attitude towards her kind he might even help stop this madness. McGonagall must have thought likewise, because so far she was acting as though she wasn't aware of Addams' crime.

"Do you know, professor?" His attention was brought back to the present, and he looked down in question at Hermione, whose face was creased with worry lines. "Do you think they'll close the school? And if not, when will classes recommence?" He would have pointed out how off balance her priorities were, but now knew this girl well enough to know such an observation was useless.

"I've not been informed of any decision yet." He replied – she should really have been more concerned with the risk to her life than with school matters!

"You must know something!" Hermione snapped harshly, before quickly pulling herself together and apologising for her tone. She hadn't meant to snap, but she was growing frustrated with the adults for allowing the students education to be disrupted for so long, not to mention increasingly anxious that they would decide to close the school. Today was the fourth day that classes had been cancelled while the castle was searched and the death investigated, and she knew that if classes didn't start up again soon the students would have to be sent home because they were going stir crazy already.

"There has been no word. But if the person responsible for these attacks isn't found soon, I believe there is a good chance the school will be closed."

"In the meantime, what about extra-curriculars?" Heri decided to redirect the conversation before Hermione got really worked up. The rest of his group were more upset with the idea that this weekend's Quidditch game would be cancelled than about their stunted education.

"Yes, maybe you could have a word with McGonagall?" Blaise suggested, and suddenly Snape found himself surrounded by the whole gang. It wasn't a pleasant situation for anyone to be in. He'd taught these children things that could kill him – he might as well be surrounded by a dozen adults. He shook his head, refusing to let himself think that way and dismissing the feeling in his gut that told him he was being threatened: that was preposterous… "You could help her understand how allowing the upcoming match to go ahead as normal would raise spirits and help everyone relax a bit."

"And Herido will patrol the pitch to ensure no nasty monsters get in." Daphne added, laughing at Heri's betrayed look.

"Hey!" He cried, offended that his friends would think he'd volunteer to _protect_ the school. Though his protest was half hearted: he knew that appeasing his friends in this way would keep their own protests at bay. They were mad that Tom's actions might see the school closed, not to mention their growing concerns for the wellbeing of Ginny Weasley. Hermione had managed to shut them up for the time being after pointing out that Ron had looked much worse than Ginny last year and he was doing just fine. He didn't think Hermione cared about the youngest Weasley at all.

"I'll pass your proposition along." He said before coldly dismissing any further argument by turning away to start the lesson, causing most of the students to break away to set up. He doubted Minerva would find Addams' involvement as reassuring as he did, but it was worth a shot. Besides, it would give the aurors a chance to see Addams working for their cause. Hagrid had an ironclad alibi for the attacks, and so if the Ministry was looking for a scapegoat they'd have to look elsewhere. Herido would be an obvious suspect, but even if they wanted to, they wouldn't dare accuse an Addams without definitive proof. The last time the Chamber was opened it was Tom Riddle's doing – not that the young Dark Lord had ever been brought to account – and when Snape had asked, Albus could think of no one else with the ability to open it. No one that was, except Addams. The legend went that only Slytherin's heir could control the monster within the chamber, but Albus had learnt not to underestimate that child; he could likely do it if he so wished. It was either that or Voldemort was somehow active within the school, and as far as he could tell that was impossible. All the secret entrances remained sealed, the wards had not been breached and the new Defence teacher was, well, he'd retire permanently if Lockhart turned out to be responsible. Snape silently hoped it was Voldemort, for at least then he would know what the man was up to, though opening the chamber seemed rather petty compared to his more recent ambitions.

"I don't think…"

Snape turned back to see what else Herido had to say, but he'd been silenced by Granger's murderous glare. The boy smiled fondly in response.

Snape frowned at the intensely accusatory and angry look being sent to his most troublesome student. "What do you know of this?" The way the children spoke of the chamber during their secret lessons had him believing they had nothing to do with it, but now he wasn't so sure. Granger at least seemed to think Herido was in some way responsible.

"Of the chamber you mean?" Heri replied easily as he leaned back against a training dummy. "Well, just before Salazar Slytherin left the school he…"

"You know very well what I mean." Snape cut in as his animosity and annoyance toward the boy rekindled. He would not endure Potter's son playing these games with him. He decided it best to be specific. "Addams, do you have anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No professor. That's nothing to do with me." It was none of his business really. Heri was just an observer.

"Do you know where the Chamber is? Have you seen the monster?"

"No. To both questions. Please, continue." Heri thought Snape needed to practice his interrogation technique. The man didn't even have a flash light and hose. And there wasn't a torture device in sight. Maybe he'd betrayed Voldemort because he just wasn't cut out to be a Death Eater. Maybe he could convince Lucius to interrogate someone to check they all weren't so incompetent.

"Do you know who is opening the chamber?" Snape asked, his voice becoming harder with each question. If only they weren't in school!

"That really depends on your definition of 'who', and whether a composite being can be defined at all." Heri didn't actually know the mechanics of who was opening the door – Ginny or Tom, or both? Legally speaking, could a memory even be classed as a person?

Seeing her professor take a calming breath, Hermione stepped in. She knew Heri was going to see this experiment to its end, so just wished everyone would back off. "Professor, is there a way to protect ourselves while…"

"Hermione that's a fine idea. A nice hex bag perhaps. We could use them to further protect the game this weekend. Any ideas?" He didn't care about the rest of the school, but Heri could make sure his friend was protected. He didn't think Tom would dare go after Hermione, but one could never be too careful.

Frowning down at the two students, Snape conceded to the change in topic. "Maybe, if I knew what it is we are up against." Came his cold reply.

"We're dealing with a Basilisk. Surely you knew _that!_ " Were the staff here really this useless? The monster belonged to the most famous Parseltongue in history and had the ability to kill without leaving any wounds and to petrify: it was obvious. Kounna's description of 'giant serpent' helped too.

Severus shook his head. Maybe the trick to getting answers out of the boy was to not ask for any at all. Or maybe Herido was simply giving out information now because it was useful to him – he made an excellent Slytherin.

"I can think of a few things. But they require ingredients we do not stock here… for obvious reasons." Herido held up a hand:

"Say no more. Just give me a list." Snape managed to suppress a shiver from Heri's smile, but acquiesced and summoned a book from his private rooms before making a note of everything he'd need. It was for a good cause and these items were only a little dark, he reassured himself. The things he was teaching were darker and therefore more dangerous to him should anyone discover them.

Heri took one look at the note before shaking his head. "Claws from a living cat, mongoose or badger – that won't do at all." He had no problem sacrificing an animal, but this was just cruel. "Humans are the biggest predator, so surely any protection would be more potent with a human element." He sent Snape a disapproving frown. "'Mione, why don't you ask Gregory to go… downstairs, to collect some nails. We only need a handful." He smiled at his own stupid pun, but when he looked up to see Snape's face struggling to decide between intrigue and disgust that smile grew to something more twisted.

Hermione scowled at the floor. "No, I'll do it." His head snapped to his friend.

"Why Hermione, you're becoming quite the vicious creature." Heri said proudly as he handed over the key to his case.

Before she could leave Heri had another thought: "Actually, if we're going for an aggressive, predatory element, perhaps teeth would be…"

"NO! No. Nails with suffice." Snape was _choosing_ to believe Herido already had a stock of human nails for some insane reason, and although he would usually applaud this kind of lateral thinking, it was threatening to shatter that already tenuous belief. He decided it was time for class.

"Ok children, dismemberment…"

* * *

"Ah! Oh, you absolute bastard!"

The ambient chatter of the Slytherin common room came to an abrupt halt at the startled and angry cry emanating from the dorms. Heri just smiled, looking up from his charms book as Daphne came out holding a laptop and a worried expression. As she walked over to her friends the other students returned to their previous activities, completely dismissing the disturbance now they knew it was something to do with Addams and his friends.

It was now a week after the death of Penelope Clearwater and everyone was still painfully on edge. Even those that quietly welcomed the attacks on muggleborns had been humbled when one was actually killed. It was like cold water to the face and the reality of losing one of their peers was difficult to come to terms with, not to mention terrifying. In a reversal of the previous norm, students had begun to spend their time in the general vicinity of Addams – for once his dangerous, oppressive aura made them feel safer. Nobody was in any doubt that he was capable of doing something like this, but they also knew he was not one to discriminate on the basis of birth and they were therefore divided on whether he was behind the attacks. Even so, they were all in agreement that should Slytherin's monster attack while Hermione Granger was nearby, Herido was sure to take care of it, and that gave them some twisted comfort. Staying close to him and Granger seemed the safest place to be. The only lingering concern they had was that Flint was still diligent in his avoidance of Addams – almost as though he would rather face the monster than the dark second year…

As Daphne sat down she handed Heri the laptop, which he could now see was smashed beyond repair.

"There is raw rage going on back there." Daphne informed, perhaps a little unnecessarily.

"What was she doing?" Draco asked after Hermione. It couldn't have been anything good.

Daphne shrugged. "She was playing a game, I think." Her book smart friend hand been sitting at her desk, wearing some kind of visor and concentrating like there were exams around the corner. She would gasp and flinch every now and then, but then out of nowhere she had shattered the quiet of the room, jumping back in her chair with a loud exclamation while her magic exploded around her, destroying the muggle device along with the desk and everything else on it.

Before anyone could ask for details, Hermione had pulled herself together and finally came out to join them.

"How far did you get?" Heri asked, his voice alight with amusement.

"Do not speak to me!" She snapped, glaring as his smile twisted into a self-satisfied, sadistic grin. She'd done a lot over the last year and a half, but for some reason that stupid video game had made her feel more nervous and paranoid than she had since that first kill! Bloody Heri with his bloody horror games! He'd said _Dreadhalls_ was a pleasant walking simulator… she should have known better.

Hermione was one of only a handful of muggleborns left at Hogwarts. When news of the murder reached parents, most of the muggles immediately pulled their children out of school. Herido believed this was utterly selfish of them – to spoil his and Tom's fun like that! He thought the atmosphere had been greatly improved lately; he could taste the fear and uncertainty in the air and it was simply delicious. It was amazing how a little death could lighten up a place. Tom deserved another medal for services to the school!

Heri returned to his charms book, half reading and half allowing his mind to wonder who Tom would go after next. He'd overheard his friends taking bets on who it would be. It was rather callous of them really. But still, Tom hadn't unleashed Slytherin's monster again, and Heri was starting to think maybe the young Lord had simply taken the opportunity to get rid of Dumbledore. The sly dog, him!

"Ah? Addams?" He looked up to see the frightened face of Anthony Falco, seventh year prefect and raised an eyebrow in question. "Er, professor Snape asked me to give you this." The poor boy nearly shoved the small sack at Heri before quickly scuttling away. The students really were just too skittish and fearful – it was something Heri thought he could get used to.

Within the sack were a dozen hex bags (that among other things contained the worryingly fresh human nails that Snape had calcified), and a note. He winced slightly as he read, for it appeared McGonagall had refused their request to allow this weekend's match and he knew that Draco and the Weasleys were going to have a fit. He looked across the room as he pondered how else he could stop his friends from bothering him, and it occurred to him that he hadn't yet tested how deep the student's respect truly ran.

He stood abruptly, startling his friends from their own study, while all other eyes turned to him because keeping Herido Addams in sight just felt like the safest thing to do.

"Everyone who's not a seventh year, a prefect or on the quidditch team kindly leave." He said pleasantly, sweeping one arm towards the dormitories. No one took his words as anything less than a demand, and those not called to remain made haste in gathering up their things and getting the hell out. Well, all but Pansy, who loudly proclaimed she was comfy and staying put, and had to be dragged out by Tracy and Millicent. He glanced to Hermione, who merely batted her eyelashes at him with a saccharin smile – a picture of innocence. Heri scoffed, and turned back to see who was left in the room.

"Flint?" His friendly tone did nothing to alleviate the painful tension that took hold of the older boy's body as he was addressed. He stood to acknowledge the call, but kept his head down, almost shrinking into himself in an effort to hide. "Gather the rest, would you?" Not everyone Heri wanted was already in the common room.

McGonagall's main concerns were that she didn't feel they had enough security to ensure the safety of such a large out door event, and that the teams due to play, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, were down several muggleborn players.

"Heri, what are you doing?" Blaze asked, somewhat concerned that his dark friend was up to something.

"Raising an army and arranging a charity match." He informed without looking back. If the school teams couldn't play he was sure a Friendly would suffice in placating the school and reassuring the higher-ups that they didn't need to close the place. His mother would be so proud – she always said charity was important, and she always said charity should hurt.

"Of course you are." His friends shook their heads, but watched on with interest.

Heri waited until everyone was gathered, and then waited a few more minutes until the anticipation and tension began to choke the air before he spoke: "Everyone on the team come sit over here." He said, pleased when they insistently obeyed despite their wary glances. He needed to see how many bodies he'd be able to supply to protect the stadium. It was all for show and reassurance: there was no way Tom would unleash the basilisk amid a thousand magical children, which was a shame really, because that kind of chaos would surely be interesting. "This Saturday you'll be playing a friendly against Gryffindor, and the rest of you will be assisting me in guarding the match." It was curious to see the twinkling of excitement in their eyes. The hysteria of sport never ceased to amaze him. "I trust there are no objections?" His voice became cold as he dared them to object, though he couldn't quite hide the amusement in his eyes as many gulped loudly or ducked their heads. Part of him wanted them to challenge him – it had been so long since a student did – but unfortunately they all remained quiet. Many of the seventh years looked a bit miffed they wouldn't be able to watch the game, but not enough to pick a fight. Maybe he should have made them do something they weren't so eager to do. With all this do-gooding he was just itching to punish someone.

"Do Gryffindor know they're playing yet?" Daphne asked, suspecting he'd just come up with the idea. He smiled at her, and suddenly the eerie shadows snapped forward, reaching out and enveloping him in darkness. Then he was gone.

"Ah!"

"Fuck's sake!"

"Morgana's tits!"

A chorus of startled exclamations greeted Herido when he appeared, cloaked in darkness, in the centre of the Gryffindor common room. As the shadows dissipated, Neville and the Weasleys made their way over to him. There were a few cries about Slytherins not being allowed in here, but they were subdued, like they were only being made because it was expected but didn't court a response of any kind.

All eyes watched cautiously as the five boys engaged in a brief, hushed conversation, and before anyone could create their own reasons for the unexpected visit Heri was gone, leaving wisps of darkness in his wake.

"He… You can't apparate in Hogwarts!" A sixth year cried, feeling a little more confident now Addams was no longer present. The redundant statement was left ignored.

Jumping up onto a nearby table, the twins took the lead: "Good news, Gryffindors!" They chimed together joyously.

"This weekend we're going to be facing," Fred started.

"And beating," George interjected. Everyone watched the brothers with nervous curiosity.

"Our Slytherin foes on the quidditch pitch…"

"In front of the whole school."

"How can you think about playing quidditch at a time like this?!" Cut in Percy, his face a picture of incredulity. "Penny _died_ last week! This isn't the time!" Murmurs of agreement echoed through the room.

"This is the perfect time." Ron hit back with a frown. With everything that was happening, people needed an opportunity to let loose and enjoy themselves. Ron needed an opportunity to enjoy himself at least; to vent some of his pent up energy before he tore through his housemates in restless frustration.

"And it's the perfect way to show we aren't cowed the monster. That we won't be driven out of our school. We're Gryffindors, aren't we? We're bold and courageous." Neville spoke up, challenging their sense of House pride.

"And speaking of bold and courageous: The seventh year Slytherins have volunteered to patrol the game, to make sure everything goes smoothly…" George sneered a little as he spoke of the other house, while his twin continued trying to stir up the room:

"And we can't let them show us up, can we? If those conniving, cowardly snakes can defend the school, then surely we can too!" They smiled wickedly at the fiercely determined faces in the crowd.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

 **I'm so sorry for the delays! I didn't want to give out endless excuses, but fingers crossed I should be back on track soon.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with me xx**


	12. Chapter 12

Herido stood outside the quidditch ground amid almost two hundred students. This match had been heralded as some great victory, and even the media was here to report on the students' defiance and resilience. Tragedy brought out the best in people, they said, Slytherin and Gryffindor having come together in the face of adversity demonstrated the heart of Hogwarts. Heri wanted to gag, and had had to threaten the twins into taking credit for the whole thing, as he most certainly didn't want his name tied to it.

"This is a wonderful thing you've done, Mr Addams." He cringed as McGonagall stopped beside him.

"The twins did it!" He spoke too quickly, like he was accusing them of something bad, blaming them. The woman just smiled at him, and he knew it was a lost cause: everyone knew he was really behind this, no matter how much he denied it. It was a good thing wizards didn't have cable television or his efforts here would end up as a sappy Lifetime feature!

Thankfully McGonagall didn't hang around and moved along on her sweep around the grounds, greeting and thanking various students as she went. The game commentary was being transmitted outside, and after only ten minutes of them standing to attention with wands drawn and fearful faces, most of those around Heri relaxed as they listened and chatted excitedly amongst themselves. There were aurors dotted about too: the ministry had wanted to share in this heroic event, and many off duty aurors had even volunteered. It was all very embarrassing. If only Tom had sent the basilisk for Heri to play with, he thought with a huff – he was now holding the Dark Lord personally responsible for his boredom.

His attention was drawn by something shifting in the calm of the forest that loomed just a short distance away. It wasn't anything visible, nothing the other students would notice, but Heri could tell something had disturbed the dark habitat. He wanted to investigate, but knew it would have to wait for later. Perhaps he could see about getting a body double of some sort for these situations – someone who could ensure he wasn't missed.

He looked around again. This was agonizingly dull! And it was made all the worse by the fact his friends had abandoned him to either play or watch the game. He was doing all this to placate them, but still, one of them could have joined him! Not Crabbe or Goyle though, because they weren't great conversationalists, and he would therefore have to think up another way for them to entertain him. And not Hermione either, because she'd been even more snappy than usual lately, and he wasn't in the mood to endure it.

He felt Luna approaching, and lacking any other stimulating company he turned to greet her.

"Are you fond of the cold?" It was an unusual greeting, but given the lingering chill her lack of footwear was highly noticeable.

"Not at all," She smiled dreamily. "But apparently people have been hiding my possessions." Heri just couldn't understand the girl: She was strong for her age, and yet put up with petty bullying when she could easily put any offending children in their place.

"Why don't you join us at dinner sometimes?" It wasn't really an offer, just a perplexed enquiry: if the student population knew of Luna's association with Heri's gang they'd back off considerably.

"No, it's ok. It's all in good fun, and things have a way of coming back to us eventually." She didn't seem at all concerned that people were disrespecting her. Heri didn't get it.

"What's your childhood trauma, Luna?" He had to ask, but hadn't expected her to respond as freely as she did.

"I saw my mum die during an experiment when I was nine. It was my fault. But it's not what you're thinking; it's just that I've always seen the world differently." Heri wanted to press further, but just as he was about to speak frightened cries erupted all around, and when he looked to find the cause his eyes blazed brightly and a wide manic grin broke across his face.

Scurrying out of the forest were hundreds and hundreds of acromantula, and they were all heading straight for the lines of students lying before them like a giant buffet. Whatever had driven them from their home must have been something they feared greatly, and Heri had to wonder whether this was Tom's doing, for a basilisk could definitely be used to force the giant man-eating spiders out into the open daylight.

As they grew nearer, Heri didn't pause to take in the raising panic all around him; instead he jumped right in, jumping through the air and landing in roll right beside the little pests. As he came out of the roll he swung his katana hard, taking out all spiders in its path, and following up immediately with handfuls of knives that impaled their targets easily. A part of his mind recognised that Kounna had made her way over, not doubt planning to have a little fun of her own and maybe even dinner, but he was currently too busy to search for her. Shooting out a burst of raw energy to push back the spiders to his left, he spun away from the pincers that clacked a little too close for his liking to his right, and narrowly missed a stray shot from the barrage now being fired behind him.

McGonagall ran to the chaos on the east side of the stadium, though she couldn't join the battle straight away – as acting headmistress her immediate duty was to ensure the welfare of her students, and she could already see many who'd been injured. As far as she knew, and with the exception of Addams, all those guarding the stadium were of age, but it appeared many had already forgotten their education here for they were firing all manner of offensive spells, but not the one most suited to dealing with acromantula. Thankfully though, the aurors were competent and appeared to be dealing with the situation easily enough. Statistics suggested that many of those fighting would have crushing arachnophobia, and given the sheer amount of spiders she worried the students at least might be overrun, but the lines were holding and she couldn't quell the pride she felt bubble up for the children. That was, until she caught sight of Herido Addams, who looked like he was having a whale of a time out in the middle of the invading creatures. A shiver of trepidation forced the woman to look away, for although the dark child was having to fight, the spiders around him were falling quickly. He wasn't driving them back like the aurors; he was killing any that came close. Addams was splattered with blood, but wore a feral smile as he ducked and weaved his way out of danger. It looked exhausting, and from what she could see he was only using psychical weaponry – she hated to imagine what he'd be capable of if he ever decided to utilize some of that infamous Addams magic! When she saw the rest of his gang fighting their way to him, she decided that watching any longer was bad for her mental health: Ronald Weasley seemed to be tearing the creatures apart with his bare hands…

As Heri swung his sword once more he wondered whether he should spare one of these unfortunate creatures to gift to Wednesday – she was so fond of spiders, and though she usually preferred to breed her own pedigree pets, an acromantula might provide an appreciated distraction. And Grandmamma could always use fresh acromantula venom for Sunday lunch.

The battle wouldn't last very long, and he'd have preferred the chaos of a basilisk on the loose, but all the same he'd have to remember to send a thank you note to Tom for the kind thought.

"Who won?" He asked as George appeared in his periphery.

"Slytherin, but only because Draco got the snitch…" George spun away and was replaced by Fred – as though the twins were attached at the spine.

Those back at the stadium had finished their fight – the spiders were easily pushed back, but seemed to be determined to destroy the boy killing so many of their brothers and sisters and had converged on the eleven children. Most of the school and her visitors stood frozen as they watched Heri's gang with awe. They didn't see Slytherin or Gryffindor, academic success or pain in the arse; all the children were vicious and merciless. It was frightening, but what really got to the watching crowd were the joyous expressions they saw. The gang was capable and they knew it; they didn't doubt they could win and yet didn't hesitate to destroy the enemy before them… and they were having fun while they did.

"And we were playing several reserves." Fred continued after finishing off a group of acromantula with a bombarda maxima. Harry hoped Snape was watching: even in the middle of such fun, all of his friends remembered they had an audience and none had slipped by using dark magic. Heri and his friends were more than ready to duel other students!

"You need to accept that Slytherin are the better team!" Draco countered from somewhere behind Heri.

"Maybe they were today," Ron conceded, "but you still only won because of sheer luck – that's the only way anyone can get a quaffle past me!"

Heri rolled his eyes and back flipped over the quarrelling boys. The field was carpeted by arachnoid body parts and blood, but the ground around Ron was particularly saturated. He doubted any flora would grow here for a while. His head cocked to the side as Kounna approached. She was hissing about a dead unicorn on the far side of the castle.

That's when he took the time to glance back to the stadium and saw the students being hurriedly ushered into the castle, while a large group of aurors and teachers disappeared from view as they rounded the school. He imagined whatever they found more entertaining than an army of giant spiders had to be worth a look.

By the time they'd finished off the eight-legged pests and found the source of fascination, only a few adults were left at the scene. They were all white with worry – it looked promising. The rest were nearby, trying to force a crowd of curious students back.

"Children, you shouldn't be here. Please, return to your dormitories at once." McGonagall ordered, though she didn't sound as authoritative as she'd have liked. She was still a little unnerved after watching these kids fighting with such cruel abandon.

Heri ignored the foolish woman who thought she could order him to do anything, and stepped through the adults to see what the fuss was about. Kounna had been right about the dead unicorn – the majestic creature lay cold on its side with its throat torn out. Heri couldn't blame Tom for wanting to help rid the world of such purity. He was wondering whether the Horcrux was trying to finish the work of his master soul from last year, when he saw the writing: Formed with thick lashes of silvery blood were the words: Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber for ever.

Ah, shit, Heri thought. Now he was going to have to do something about Tom, or his friends would get themselves killed trying to save Ginny. At least Tom had stepped up the flamboyance: it was still animal blood, but it made a much better tableau that the bird blood on the wall.

"That's too bad. You'd think one death a year would be enough!" George chuckled, causing Heri to turn a raised eyebrow at the ginger boy. Where was the outrage and panic? Maybe he'd gotten lucky and they'd stopped caring.

"You aren't worried about Ginny?" He asked tentatively, not wanting to trigger a delayed reaction.

"Herido," Astoria replied, "the weaslette is over there." She nodded to the children still being held back some way away. Ginny was indeed there, trying to get a good look past the aurors. But then who…

"Hey, guys." Blaise's voice was heavy with dread. What now? "Where's Hermione?"

Heri's head spun around so quickly that his friends were sure they heard his neck snap.

"I thought she was watching the game. Didn't she come out with you guys?" He spoke with a slow, even tone that made even the bravest among his friends hesitate to answer.

"N-No. I haven't seen her since breakfast." Daphne forced herself to answer when no one else did. She was going to say more, but the words died in her throat.

And the resulting silence was deafening.

Herido's exquisite control slipped as the words reached him, and his power broke free for the first time since he arrived at Hogwarts. Dr Lector called it his mask of mediocrity, but at that moment Heri had no desire to maintain his disguise. He had been determined not to do anything that would drag his family into clearing up his mess, but at that moment he didn't care – that's what family were for after all, for moments like this.

A cold powerful pressure rose around him, so heavy that those nearby, both adult and child, fell to the ground as they were caught off guard, or were simply unable to hold up against the feeling of retched death fell upon them. The air was deadly still, but seemed to crackle with a charge too intense to be borne. It closed in on those present with terrifying malice. The fear that clouded the mind was unspeakable, as though they were facing their worst fear, or maybe even death itself. The students started to think back about any time they had so much as looked at Addams the wrong way, and the teachers regretted even giving him homework – they all felt they'd committed some unforgivable sin that was about to be addressed. Many of the children watching further back fainted under the strain.

Snape was the only teacher who remained on his feet. He'd been present when both Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore had displayed their power and so wasn't as effected. He still felt the dread, though it was dread of a different kind – this was a power darker than any he'd known (he wouldn't feel foolish in calling it Black Magic), and if Herido Addams was this powerful at age twelve, what would he be like as an adult? Only a diseased mind could comprehend it.

Heri could hardly believe it: Tom had gone after one of his friends! It was incredibly rude if nothing else.

"Wait here." He told no one in particular, and walked away slowly.

* * *

Hagrid sat in his hut, sharing a rare steak with Fang. With Dumbledore gone he didn't want to get anywhere near Addams, and so had decided to sit out today's much praised event. He had just decided that today might be a good day to break out the single malt, when the door to his home was violently ripped from its frame and landed with a heavy thud out in the garden.

He scampered up, fuelled by adrenalin, to face whoever was responsible, but froze when met with a stone faced Herido Addams. The boy's eyes were dark as pitch, yet somehow burned into Hagrid's own and forced him to look away.

"Ay," He faltered, "Ay, you're noh' welcome 'ere."

Herido took a deep breath. He no longer harboured any resentment for this gentle giant, but nor did he have the patience to tease out what he wanted.

He threw out a hand and Hagrid was pulled through the air, before landing on his knees before the young boy – one of his friends was in trouble, and Heri didn't even have the grace to humour the difference in eye line.

"What'ya doing?" Heri silence the man with a hard gaze.

"The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, you were held responsible." He began in a cold emotionless tone. The man tried to defend himself, but before a word could be formed, he felt the pressure in the air close in on him threateningly. "I want you to tell me who died, and where they died." It wasn't great séance weather, and Hogwarts had enough ghosts to make such a thing awfully difficult, but Heri would just have to force Tom's original victim to take form. He needed to know where the Chamber was. He was hoping that Tom had used Hermione to leave the bloody message, and if that was the case there was a chance she wasstill alive.

"The, the girl…" Hagrid tried to respond right away, but was having trouble forcing his breath out. "The girl was called Myrtle, she died in the girls' bathroom on the second floor, and, and…"

"She never left." Heri finished. He looked down on Hagrid: the man was now leaning forward on his hands, sweating under the strain of Heri's power, and it was only as he looked upon this struggling mountain of fur and flesh that he realised his slip of control. He took another calming breath and reined it in.

"Shall we go talk to Myrtle, then?" He turned with a half-smile at Daphne, who stood with a fierce determination, as though expecting him to try and send her away.

"Sure."

* * *

 **xx**


	13. Chapter 13

"Football – the money involved alone…" Herido stated confidently as he and Daphne approached Myrtle's bathroom at a brisk, but dignified pace.

She shook her head with a sly smile. "You mean _American Football_." The blonde corrected with a slight curling of the lip, before returning just as surely: "Actual Football. The kind played by the entire world." Harry paused to look at her askance, before opening the bathroom door and leading them inside. Sport wasn't a topic he thought she'd have looked into during her last year of exposure to the muggle world. Then again, he supposed, their best friends did include Draco and the Weasleys, so maybe she hadn't had a choice in the matter. He suddenly had a wonderful mental image of her in a wizarding style formal gown, sitting stiffly amongst thousands of rowdy home fans, face like a lemon and wand at the ready.

"Land of the Free." He eventually returned, while taking out a small tub, and somehow making a perfect free hand circle of table salt in the middle of the floor. "Leaders of democracy."

"The Magna Carta." He was about to call out Myrtle's name, but paused to look at her again, this time in quiet disbelief. Ah, Hermione, he thought – a great deal of her initial exposure was done at the muggleborn's house. Daphne saw his look and smirked slightly: "Which means we had civilized democracy hundreds of years before your country was even discovered." Her face was triumphant, and although he didn't agree, he had to concede that was a good one.

Undeterred, he continued: "Native American non-intrusive healing magics. Myrtle!" He called suddenly for the ghost when he noticed that quietly triumphant look increase threefold. He must have been getting desperate, Daphne thought.

The young ghost appeared in the circle and started moaning about the aggressive method of summoning, but was ignored for a moment while the living children had some kind of stand-off.

"Lord Voldemort." Daphne declared, a note of finality to her voice indicating her belief that she'd won. "The most powerful Dark Lord on record." She was sure she'd stumped him with that one, so was a little surprised by the way he cocked his head to the side while regarding her in utter confusion.

"How's that a bad thing?!"

"It, it's not." She replied, now also confused. "'My country's better than your country:' America can't one-up Lord Voldemort." Her confidence that she'd won faded when she saw his sly smile, and she knew she'd been mistaken. They weren't playing 'My country's better than yours' at all, were they? Knowing Herido, they were probably playing 'Whose country is worse?' She'd nervously initiated the conversation in the hopes it would distract the murderous intent rolling from her friend, but now she realized he must have noticed how emotionally taut she was as well, and was likewise trying to help her calm down. He obviously enjoyed confusing his friends with his unpredictable weirdness, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he'd got her, and that it had worked, so she turned her attention to the ghost, who was now crying heavily about being ignored.

Heri smiled as she turned away. She was a talented socialite, and had an answer for everything, especially when she didn't entirely understand the topic being discussed, which is why he'd taken point in the short debate. Usually such talents were used to keep conversation flowing, to show interest, or to win favour. He preferred to see them used this way.

With a séance now unnecessary, things progressed quickly from there. Herido threatened to confine the ghost in her grave, with her own decomposed body for all eternity, and in a round-about way, Myrtle hastily pointed them straight to the Chamber's entrance.

To Heri's great amusement, Daphne eyed the dark hole with a frown and took out her wand, instantly tying back her hair and changing into a grey jumpsuit before making the leap, only to change herself back once she was safely back on her feet and dusted off. It was only then he realized she must have done likewise after their fight a short time earlier, because she was the only one of their group not spattered (or in Ron's case, covered), in arachnoid blood.

"What?" She asked with that same chilling superiority she used with the rest of the school, but Heri merely laughed, before taking them further into the darkness.

All his friends were so weird.

When they stepped down into Slytherin's Chamber Daphne wasted no time in running across the damp stones, forgetting dignity and propriety as she rushed to Hermione's side to make sure she was alright. Herido took a more sedate pace, his eyes darting around to assess danger, while his magic reached out to assess his muggleborn friend. The Chamber was even cozier than the dungeons, the perfect place to leave a legacy, he thought. He only looked down at the unconscious girl once he'd reached her side. He could hear a heartbeat, and relaxed a little. It was weak, but it was steady – She had time.

"I must thank you, Herido." Tom's soft voice rang throughout the Chamber, causing Heri to turn just in time to see the other boy approaching from the shadows, Hermione's wand hanging loosely from his worryingly corporeal hand. "It turns out you were right: Mudbloods do have their value after all." He said with a smirk at the dying girl. He used the slur to purposely rile up the other boy. "In many ways they can be just as useful as purebloods, and I never would have considered using one before." The Granger girl turned out to be far more powerful than the Weasley chit, and given all the Dark magic she used, that power was more effective for Tom's purpose. "Why kill a Pureblood, when a mudblood is just as effective? And this foolish little girl came to me willingly."

"I imagine she was better company too." Heri responded with an unconcerned air, his dark eyes laughing at the disgusted sneer he was sent for suggesting that Tom could do anything more than tolerate the presence of a muggleborn. He wouldn't rise to the baiting.

"Marginally." Tom gave reluctantly. The truth was much more embarrassing. With Ginny, he'd had to endure torturous hour after torturous hour of ridiculous, inconsequential whining and gossip. Granger though had sought out the Diary specifically to speak with him, and as with Herido before, all she cared to talk about was Voldemort and magic.

"I should thank you too, Voldemort." Tom raised an eyebrow. He'd never expected Herido to come here throwing Avada Kedavras, but he didn't imagine the boy would be thanking him for killing a friend either. "You really pushed my tolerance this year, and forced me to take the time to truly appreciate my friends. If you'd have come here last year, I'd have likely let you have your way."

"Herido!" Came Daphne's shocked outcry from behind him. She'd removed the Diary from the other girl's arms, but the distance didn't seem to make any difference.

Heri ignored her and continued:

"You should have stuck with Ginny. As it stands now, I'm afraid I just can't let you kill one of my friends. I apologize." He told Tom sadly, sincerely, spreading his arms as if to say 'what can you do?'

"I think you will. What choice do you have?" Tom's smirk was back, and it unsettled Herido greatly. Tom was very aware of Herido's dangerous aura at that moment, but he'd spent his time with the Addams family learning and observing all he could, and he was confident he could extrapolate Herido's actions in this matter.

"I…" Heri cut himself off as he realized Tom was right. Taking a step back to look at his first friend, whose pulse was slowing gradually, he felt a clammy chill spread across his skin – the sensation of lying in a shallow grave. Every option he thought up to deal with the situation was unusable. They all left him at a profound loss.

Tom had played this too well, much to Herido's chagrin. By using someone Heri cared about, he'd ensured there was no way the boy could stop him. He'd played to checkmate before Herido could even make his first move.

Tom watched as Addams' eyes narrowed into slits, the almost black of his irises barely visible as he considered his friend. He decided it might be best not to let the boy think over his options too much, just in case. The girl didn't have too much time left, so he decided to try a distraction. All he had to do was buy himself enough time.

"Did you enjoy the spiders?"

"Yes, they were a rare treat. Thank you." Heri said politely, but distractedly.

 _Had Ginny been here, and for some reason Herido wanted to stop Tom, he could have simply killed her, thereby cutting off Tom's power supply. He wouldn't kill Hermione though._

"Would you like to meet the basilisk?" Tom tempted, a sly smile showing that he already knew the answer.

"Hm,"

 _Yet to save Hermione he'd have to kill Tom, and that was not an option either._

The absently given agreement was enough for Tom to call Slytherin's monster, and the sound of Parseltongue snapped Herido to attention. It was strange to hear it from another human.

As he heard the serpent approaching from somewhere beyond the giant statue of Slytherin, he sent Tom a dramatic sigh. "I didn't mean now."

"Well, she's already on her way. It would be rude not to say 'hello'." The sly smile remained. "And I'm curious to see if you can deal with her as easily as you did her prey."

Heri started to pull loose his tie, while frowning deeply. He knew Tom was distracting him, but he couldn't exactly ignore a basilisk!

 _Most people thought Heri a psychopath, and maybe they were right, but even psychopaths had standards, and he was deeply, deeply, uncomfortable with the idea of destroying a soul._ _It was so much worse than simply taking a life._

"Come on, Voldemort. Don't make me kill a basilisk." He whined childishly, almost pouting despite the dire circumstances. "Pugsley and Wednesday would never forgive me!" He pulled the tie free as the snake poked its head out into the Chamber, and taking the two steps to Daphne, tied it securely over her eyes. He had faith that he'd be able to fight a battle without giving in to the temptation to open his eyes, but he didn't want to risk it with those less trained. It was best to keep his eyes closed anyway, if only so that no one would see how excited he was to meet the basilisk – if not for the circumstances it would have been like Christmas come early.

Daphne protested loudly, until she heard the hissing getting closer and decided she was safer blind. There was nothing she could do about the basilisk, so she trusted that Heri would deal with it and focused once more on her other friend. In that moment she wished she'd studied more, maybe if she'd studied soul magic she'd be able to figure out how to sever the bond between the book and Hermione. Imagining a large pair of ethereal scissors wasn't helping! She placed her fingers back over the pulse point on Hermione's wrist.

"Let's see if that infamous Addams magic can match the power of the basilisk. Its skin is said to be nigh on impenetrable." Tom was saying.

"You flatter me." Heri hit back, cocking his head to follow the movement of the serpent. He could hear it had come to a stop beside Tom. "But I don't need Addams magic to defeat a basilisk – you forget that the last study was done by _wizards_ hundreds of years ago – the world has progressed since then." He grinned down at Daphne, even though she couldn't see him. "In a fight, a good American will always beat a good Englishman." He told her before turning back. "And you forget that really, Addams or not, I'm just your average American boy." He snapped his fingers, and a hunting riffle appeared in his waiting hand. His katana could have cut the basilisk down, but he felt Tom was making a point that all his power came from being lucky enough to have been born an Addams, and while this wouldn't usually bother him at all, with Voldemort he wanted to prove himself. "Please don't make me kill this creature." He repeated the plea, aiming the gun right at the beast's eyes as a threat, despite his own lack of sight, and ever cautious that Tom could give the order to attack at any moment.

"You'd blind a basilisk?" Tom asked in mock horror, and genuine disgust.

"She's not much of a threat without her eyes." Herido shrugged, even though inside he was sick at the mere thought of doing such a terrible, unconscionable thing.

"She could still smell you, hear you, and I'm sure you realise her venom is…"

"Salad dressing." Heri finished honestly. He felt relief, but it wasn't reflected in his still defensive stance. When Tom had started to assess Heri's battle plan, Heri had come to realize his foe had no intention of letting him kill Slytherin's pet. He was merely stalling him, and now Heri knew Tom wouldn't send the snake on a kamikaze mission, it would no longer work.

He snapped his fingers again, this time the gun disappeared and was replaced by a rocket launcher. Bluff called.

 _If it were a different student, Heri would have been of the opinion that dying for the purpose of returning Lord Voldemort to power was definitely a death to be proud of. A death day to be celebrated. But he didn't think it was Hermione's time to pass on quite yet. It was disgustingly selfish of him – to deny her such a gloriously_ _honourable_ _death, but he hardly cared._

To show he was serious, and that the game was over, Heri fired a rocket into a far corner of the Chamber. The resulting blast shook the entire room, the far corner collapsed, and small bits of rubble fell over the four students as they braced themselves against the _bang_ that was amplified by the room's brilliant acoustics. The scent of Daphne's blood filled the air, and he turned back to ensure it was nothing serious. The last thing he needed was another dying friend. Thankfully it seemed a small piece of jagged rock had merely sliced through the skin of her forearm, so he returned his attention to Tom. The ringing in his ears was coming to a stop, and Heri wondered whether, with this great surround sound, he'd have been able to overpower the command of the basilisk's Master with a simple flute.

"You were born to aggravate me, weren't you Addams?" Tom spat, losing a little composure as he used the muggleborn's wand to clean himself of dust, before hissing sharply at the snake to retreat.

"You have no idea." Heri replied with a wicked grin after opening his eyes to take in the other's ire.

Tom's jaw ticked, but then he realized it didn't really matter either way. The girl was almost out of time. He only needed a minute or two more. Heri noticed this change in countenance and must have realised the same thing, for his eyes darkened once more.

"Herido." Tom called lightly, and had to use every bit of self-control he possessed to keep the smirk off his face when he saw the unbridled fury on the boy's. He felt Addams was close to killing him in a fit of rage, so there was no need to push him over the edge. "I believe you owe me a secret."

There was a soft whimper as Daphne felt Heri's Dark power crash over her for the second time that day. Thankfully she was already on the ground, cradling her friend's head on her knees. After pulling Heri's tie loose, she tried to brush the dust from Hermione's face and wondered if she could somehow lend the girl some of her own magic. She was worried sick: why wasn't Herido doing something?! He was obviously angry and worried about Hermione's situation, so why wasn't he fighting Voldemort already?!

"I don't suppose I can sway you on the meaning of innocent?" Heri tried, but was given only an expectant look in response. He had made a wager and Tom had managed to make it back into Ginny's hands, but Heri dearly didn't want to share his secret. He didn't have time to debate the point though. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it now! A life and a soul (or part of a soul), in his hands.

 _If Hermione died here today, her life would be over, but she'd still have her soul – she'd still go on..._

"You're an evil man, Voldemort."

Tom merely looked at him with that same steady, expectant look. Oh, how Heri hated/admired this man!

 _If she died, Herido would make it his mission to release every fragment of soul Voldemort had secured, and then force it all back into a flesh and blood body so he could take his time freeing him from this plane of existence. If Voldemort killed his friend now, he would suffer a lifetime of agony. If he became powerful enough perhaps even an afterlife of agony as well. But destroy his soul? No._

"Very well. My greatest secret." He cringed at what he was about to say, wishing he hadn't let Daphne accompany him here, that she wouldn't have to hear his embarrassment. "Last summer I was subjected to a torturous form of reeducation, of reprogramming. One of the films I was forced to watch was called 'Annie'." He took a deep breath for courage. He couldn't afford to dawdle any longer. "It was ok" He confessed in a whisper that was barely audible. He silently wished for an earthquake, or maybe for the ceiling to cave in – any hole for him to disappear in to. "Not the format," He quickly tried to explain, "and the title character… she was… chipper," He spat out the word as he tried to defend himself, "But I suppose I related to her…"

 _Not only did destroying a soul, a person's entire existence, not sit well with him, it was not the right of any mortal to do so._ _Mutilating_ _a soul,_ _binding_ _it, enslaving it, using the power of several hundred to forge a soul weapon capable of cutting through anything – that was all fine. But not destroying one. Souls didn't belong to the realm of mortals. It might be the only thing in the whole world that Herido Addams would personally judge as 'evil'. And then he had to think of the_ _repercussions_

Given his humiliation, he couldn't even derive any satisfaction from Tom's stupidly confused expression. It only lasted a moment though, and then he appeared to be angry.

"That can't be your greatest secret!" He accused sharply. "You're an Addams; you must have a plethora of great secrets."

"I do."

 _Still, Infernus forgive him if he wasn't tempted…_

"But that is my greatest. No other soul, living or dead, not even Kounna, knew of it – until just a few moments ago." He dearly hoped it never got back to his family: they'd be so concerned.

 _Did he have time to contact Grandmamma? No, he didn't think so. He could send his portrait of Aunt Vendetta to tell her that her knowledge of soul magic was urgently needed, but even if she was home and found quickly, he didn't think he had time enough for her to get to the Chamber._

Hermione's heartbeat began to falter.

 _Whatever happened, this fragment of soul, this Tom Riddle, was going to suffer for trying to hurt his friend! And he was rather keen on going head to head in a battle with a young Voldemort. He was curious to see which of them would be triumphant. Once this shard of soul was released from the Horcrux and bound to a body, he could kill said body and free it, let it return to Voldemort. He'd get the pleasure of killing Tom Riddle, and still have The Dark Lord to look forward to._

"I don't accept that. It's of no use or impact." Tom challenged, though from Herido's visible discomfort, he knew the secret must have been significant to him.

"Well, that's your own fault for failing to define what you meant by 'greatest'." Pendantry - one of Herido's favourite tools. "You should have…"

Herido's voice was drowned out by an enraged cry from the young Dark Lord.

"What did you do?!" He demanded, the rage in his eyes easily matching Heri's a short time ago. It was an impressive look, but before Heri could question what had brought on this sudden outburst, Tom's form started to lose integrity – rapidly vanishing, until after only a few seconds he was gone, leaving the air undisturbed as though he'd never been there at all.

Heri stared dumbly at the spot the almost complete body had been seconds prior, before snapping his gaze around to Daphne. And his breath caught in his throat. At first he thought the girl had killed Hermione –she looked dead, and there was no longer a pulse. But after about 8 seconds of just trying to comprehend it, he heard her heart beat, once, and only then noticed the bloody oval that had been crudely draw around the prone figure, and the bloody hands that held the sides of her head.

High above them the heavy storm clouds that had strained angrily over the area for so long broke, a torrent of rainwater falling to the earth as stray lightening violently crashed into the castle. Even here, deep underground, the floor shook and the great claps of thunder boomed terribly.

Daphne had reached her wits' end with the two boys and their unnecessary games. She'd been constantly monitoring her friend's vital signs while Herido was entertaining Voldemort, and when Hermione's pulse had grown too weak to feel with just her fingers, she'd panicked, and decided that if Heri wasn't going to act, then she had to. She didn't have a clue how she might go about destroying a Horcrux, and so in her desperation she'd done the only other thing she could think to do in order to sever the connection to the Diary. Having caught sight of the blood trickling down her arm, she realised she had but one option. It might have ended up killing Hermione, but if she did nothing she was dead anyway, so what did either girl have to lose? She grabbed the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh and sliced both of her palms open, barely feeling the terrible sting in her haste, and set about performing one of the few blood based rituals she'd looked up independently. She'd only done it for fun at the time – if people insisted on calling her the Ice Queen, she'd give them real cause to! She hadn't been completely serious about it, and was therefore surprised she'd remembered it at all.

She'd placed Hermione in a deep state of severe hypothermia, thereby effectively shutting down her body and giving the illusion of death. It seemed to have worked. Within a few moments of her body being 'dead', the Diary could no longer draw energy from it, and the connection was severed.

But now Daphne had to figure out how to revive her friend. She was no healer. In fact, until she felt the first dull heartbeat, she'd thought she'd killed the other girl – that she'd suffered heart failure or something.

Relief washed over her, but then she heard a gentle gasp, and looked up to see Herido Addams staring at her with a fierce, but unreadable intensity. Suddenly she could feel her own blood rushing through her veins and stood quickly, staring back with wide rabbit-in-headlights eyes. Shit! She thought. Herido had favoured Hermione right from the beginning, and Daphne had almost killed her while he was only a few feet away!

Heri felt ( _don't think 'frozen', don't think 'frozen'),_ stunned. Daphne had just all but killed Hermione, in order to save her life. Even for the Ice Queen it was ( _don't think 'cold', don't think 'cold'),_ chilling ( _damn it!)._ He looked at her, as though for the first time, and she looked magnificent. Dried tear tracks stained her cheeks, cutting paths through the dust and dirt. Her wide eyes were ablaze with emotion – sapphire transformed to sharpened tanzanite. Her hands were red with her own blood, the smell of which filled his senses – it smelt sweet, but in a good way; like something from the soil of a dying forest. He could taste the magic in it; dark and delicious. She was a whitewashed grave: beautiful on the outside, yet filled with dead men's bones, death, and decay.

His world temporarily narrowed to this girl who'd so surprised him, he took a brisk step forward with his left foot, and Daphne, a little overwhelmed by being his sole focus, quickly mirrored his action by stepping back with her right. He took another step, forcing her back again, but then before he could do anything else, with her eyes still wide and hard as stone she took a confident step into his space with her left foot, leaving him with no option but to mirror her this time. For the first time, Herido's power didn't frighten her as it spun and crackled around them. It was threatening, but it didn't threaten her. She just felt awe. He brought up his hands, and when she was close he reached out to hold her, they stepped together to the right, before he spun her into a low dip. The whole time they'd yet to break eye contact, but while he held her his eyes drifted down to her cracked, abused lips – apparently she'd been worrying at them since they arrived in the Chamber. She reached up a shaky hand to his cheek, smearing blood as she felt the contours of his face. He learned lower…

"L-later Herido." Daphne managed to gasp out, her voice barely a whisper, as she saw her own blood decorating his face and remembered why it had been shed in the first place. "Hermione…"

"Ah, yes." With one fluid motion he pulled her upright, suddenly all business, and then threw out his arm, palm down. The pools of water around the sides of the Chamber of Secrets burst into large, roaring flames, pleasantly warming the room in an instant.

* * *

 ***Hides from alternative** **shippers***

 **I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. No excuses, I've just been struggling to write lately, but am not abandoning anything. I had originally planned for Heri to kill the basilisk, but as I was writing it just felt wrong for him to do so.**

 **The chapter ran longer than I'd anticipated, so there'll be one more wrap-up chapter, and then on to part 4. :)**

 **Hope you enjoyed, and thank you all so much for reading!** **xx**


	14. Chapter 14

After stabilizing Hermione and getting her to the hospital, the Weasleys came to tell Herido they had a problem: Ginny. Now that Tom and the Diary were forever out of her reach, she decided that she'd seen the light, that she'd been bewitched or hoodwinked by an old Slytherin student, and that she needed to tell everyone what had really happened.

Herido didn't like Ginny, because he didn't have time for people who lied to themselves: She hadn't only just come to the realisation that old Tom was up to no good, she'd known, if not all along, then definitely since the first petrification. She only wanted to speak out now because she either wanted to cover her arse, or because she didn't want to admit that she'd been seduced by the Darkness. And she had been; her power had been getting darker all year, and while it was still on the bright side of grey, it was not the striking white with which she'd arrived at Hogwarts. Magic was largely intent. One's affinity to different types of magic came from the type of person you were, the type of person you wanted to be, and the type of magic you'd used before. Dark magic didn't so much taint as it stained.

Whatever, he didn't care about Ginny Weasley beyond the trouble she could cause for him and his friends. The official investigation was now wrapping up, and everyone was reassured the danger had passed – thanks to the heroic efforts of Daphne Greengrass.

The media loved Daphne, and she was suddenly the nation's sweetheart. She had the family name, wealth, and purity, and yet despite this she befriended the less fortunate (muggleborns – hey, such things still mattered). She had the blonde hair and blue eyes that made her a newspaper's wet dream, and after recent scrutiny it was revealed she was a fine student, her best friends included the children of such families as the Longbottoms, the Weasleys (who were regaining respect by association), and even the Malfoys! She was also 'connected' – rumoured to be in a relationship with Herido Addams, who needed no further bio, because he'd been all over the papers this time last year, and if even he hadn't been, the surname alone told readers everything they needed to know. The girl had everything, and the people loved her for it.

Ginny was the only potential problem, so Heri knew he'd have to deal with her before she opened her mouth about any potential involvement Heri and his friends might have had in the school's troubles this year.

One the one hand it was a boring job. One the other hand he'd been working on his propensity to forgo warnings, and thought threatening little Ginny into silence would be great practice, because he wouldn't be able to torture her, or break her mind, or just kill her. Not without losing friends.

He took her alone into an old, abandoned classroom when her brothers weren't looking. They were insistent on being present when he spoke to her, but Heri knew that wouldn't work – she'd feel too safe with her family present.

"So you see, no one will believe a child from such a distinguished, Pure family didn't know what she was getting into." Heri didn't think he'd ever had to reason with someone like this before. He should be able to just cut out her tongue, he thought for the eighth time.

"But I didn't know – it's not my fault! And you can't make me –"

"Families as old as yours teach their children the risks of befriending any object that displays intelligence. Your brothers know better, so why shouldn't you? 'Ginny Weasley – she was fed-up with being overshadowed by her brothers, and so conspired with this Diary left behind by Salazar Slytherin himself!'"

"That's not true! It wasn't Slytherin, it was Tom – "

"No one will believe you." Heri repeated in a quiet hiss, which made Ginny shut up and take swift step back. "Some goody two shoes prefect from before the sexual revolution convinced you to unleash a deadly basilisk onto the school? Not a great defense, is it? You are still culpable."

"But if I told them –"

Heri waved a hand, and Ginny was silenced – her mouth moving but creating no sound. It freaked her out that he'd done it so easily. They were basically the same age: if he was born a few days later he would have been in her school year... how was he so much more powerful?

"Ginny," He took a step forward. He really hated all this – if his friends wanted their sister alive, they should have dealt with her! He looked at her for a few moments before sighing and then raising his hand and making a fist.

Two men appeared at his feet.

Dead men, Ginny realised with a terrified gasp.

He crouched down and grabbed the hair of one of the men, lifting his head so Ginny could get a good look at his cold dead eyes.

"This is… Gary," He had no idea of his actual name, "A reporter I caught sneaking into the Slytherin common room. Unfortunately, as soon as he stepped into the room, he suffered a massive coronary. Such a waste." Heri shook his head, letting go of the man's head and moving on to the next one. It truly was a waste – he had killed the man without using his sacrifice for any benefit; he'd killed the man simply because he was trying to get a candid camera shot of Daphne, and that made Herido very, very angry.

"This is Bob," Again, Heri had no idea of the this man's name. He turned the body over and Ginny screamed silently, before falling back and crying. The corpse was horrifically mutilated. "I came across Bob during the storm, and he volunteered to help Hermione." He'd come across him in the storm, and used him, an off duty auror, in a ritual to give his dying friend strength enough to get to real medical help.

"Ginny, if you insist on speaking out about the Diary, both you and I and all my friends – your brothers included – will find ourselves in a spot of legal bother. We may well be expelled. I do understand that you don't care about getting most of us into trouble, but turning in you brothers? Your family? That's simply intolerable, and I want you to know that it would make me _extremely_ angry. Now," He walked over to her, indicating to the bodies as he stepped over them, "These men just happened across my path: If you cause trouble, what do you think I'll do to you?"

Ginny glanced back across to the mutilated body and shook her head in earnest, trying to convince Addams that she wouldn't say a thing, but Herido wasn't done. He crouched in front of her and lifted her chin with a tight grip, forcing her to meet his eyes so she'd know he was serious. And he was.

"And I won't stop with just you, because once you're gone I'll lose three friends. Of course, I would never hurt Ron or the twins, but the rest of your family will suffer for my loss. Whatever you experience before you die, they will suffer threefold."

It only took thirty seconds of her pleading until he was convinced she'd keep her mouth shut.

* * *

After the first spark of consciousness, it took Hermione only 10 seconds to open her eyes, ascertain her location in St. Mungo's Hospital, and establish that she was in a private room that was currently occupied by both her parents, Daphne, Pugsley, and Herido Addams. A roar that might have been a yawn came from somewhere near the door, and a quick glance confirmed Kitty Cat was here too… in a hospital room.

She was up in an instant, and rounded on Heri.

"Where is he?" She demanded quietly, deadly seriously – she was out for blood.

"Hermione!" Her mother's soft exclamation did nothing to distract her. "Hermione, thank goodness!" All four children shuddered at the expression, but ignored the following questions of concern and suggestions that she lie down.

Herido stood slowly and held up his hands.

"Give me the Diary, Herido." Hermione demanded. She couldn't believe she'd gotten caught out by the young bloody Voldemort. She'd wanted to talk to him, but thought she'd been careful. Hex bags; locking away her wand when she used the Diary, and other safety measures that Voldemort had apparently walked through like spider webs. She knew it was a risk – even Heri had struggled to handle the Diary – but it seemed safer than trying to summon the 'real' Voldemort. That ridiculously charming, psychotic wanker had tried to kill her! She couldn't believe it! Well, she could; she just couldn't believe he'd nearly succeeded. She was more cross with herself than anything.

"Now listen, 'Mione – " Heri tried to reason with her, but she marched forward, on a mission.

"Give me the Diary, Herido." She repeated. She was going to kill him. "I'm going to kill him."

Heri ducked behind Daphne, holding her shoulders like a shield.

Hermione's parents had paused in their fretful cries, but started up again once they heard their daughter's threat. "Kill?! Hermione! Who hurt you?!"

"I sent him away. He's somewhere safe." Safe from Hermione, and safe from Heri giving into the temptation to open up a dialogue again.

"So where is 'safe'?" She made to reach around Daphne (who was struggling not to laugh), but a restraining arm wove over her collarbones and pulled her back securely.

"Your parents are worried." Pugsley whispered in Hermione's ear. The strange sensation of his breath ghosting over her ear finally made her stop and think about the situation. She gave Heri a look that promised this wasn't over, and then elbowed Pugsley in the gut, hard enough to make him double over in pain, spluttering and gasping for air, before finally turning to let her folks fuss and comfort her, hiding in her mother's arms like she was a vulnerable defenseless little girl. If only they knew.

With Hermione awake, Heri and Daphne returned to Hogwarts. The muggleborn had been in the hospital for the last two weeks, and her two friends were anxious for her to wake up, not because there was any doubt that she would, but because they were concerned about the effects their actions might have had on her mind. Now she was awake they could relax.

She was clearly fine.

Pugsley hadn't left her side. A journalist and a photographer had tried to sneak in when Hermione was first moved out of High Monitoring – the journalist was shaken up but returned home to his family that night, the photographer did not, in fact he'd been missing ever since. Soon after rumours spread that the Addams heir was camping out in her room. Media interest shot through the roof, but no one else had tried to approach. Hermione was now known to be the last victim of a dark artifact left at Hogwarts by Salazar Slytherin himself! And everyone was very grateful to Daphne Greengrass for saving Hermione from its corrupting influence. The ministry had been considering holding an inquiry to establish Granger's level of culpability in the murder of Penelope Clearwater, but when Gomez Addams offered to represent her, they decided against it. It just wasn't worth it. Not for the first time Herido was grateful for his family's reputation in the wizarding world: if they bothered to check his father's track record in the muggle world they'd know that with him representing her, Hermione would have got Life in Azkaban.

Everyone believed the Dark artifact had been destroyed, but Heri wondered how long it would take Draco to tell his father that it hadn't, and wondered what kind of favour he'd have to grant to make up for stealing the Diary.

Daphne and Heri walked into the Great Hall in time for lunch.

"She's finally awake then?" Fred asked. "How did she take it?" Heri looked away at that question, sitting down and suddenly very interested in the roast chicken.

"We thought it best to let her parents tell her." Daphne admitted. Everyone pulled in a sharp breath.

"You didn't let Hermione Granger know exams were cancelled?" Blaise clarified. He didn't blame them for chickening out.

"Well, she seemed rather angry enough – best to let her folks handle it, I think." Daphne was sure about this. Very nearly killing Hermione she could do, but not this.

"She wasn't angry, she was embarrassed." Heri said. He took Daphne's hand and was turning it over in his own, studying it like it held the great secrets of the universe. She mostly ignored him, because her hands were just not that interesting.

"She was homicidal." Daphne defended. "Where have you hidden the Diary anyway? Are you certain it's safe?" Because when Hermione found out she'd missed exams, Daphne was sure she'd be even more motivated to exact a little revenge on Tom Riddle.

"She'll calm down. And I took it to a resort run by an old acquaintance. It's probably my favourite place in," he moved his head from side to side in a little noncommittal motion, before waving a dismissive hand "sort of in the world. I'm sure he'll enjoy it there, and it would be suicide for Hermione to try to take it."

"That place run by your ex-girlfriend?" A familiar blonde suddenly appeared beside the table.

"Salazar's scrotum!" Ron cried in shock.

"Stop doing that, Luna!" Vincent mopped pumpkin juice from off his face.

"Your ex-girlfriend?" Daphne pulled her hand free and turned in her seat to face Heri head on.

He groaned. "Why would you say that, Luna?" But the first year was already walking away, sullen, and perturbed.

"So your favourite place in the whole world is with your 'ex' girlfriend?"

"No, I just love the town. She has impeccable taste." There was a collective 'ooh' and Heri looked up to see this whole section of the Slytherin table shaking their heads at him – that might have been the wrong thing to say.

Daphne, who was the ultimate Pureblood cliché, graceful, elegant, and who prided herself on always looking like she could be in the style icon pages of Witch Weekly, took a slow, careful sip of tea.

"I see." She said quietly. "And where does she live?" Her voice was deadly calm. It made Herido nervous. As much as he might like to watch his girlfriend fighting his ex, he knew Daphne would lose, and the thought of losing Daphne pierced his heart like a lion's fangs ripping out the neck of an antelope.

"Sang froid," He started, trying not to let his breath catch – sometimes he really was his father's son. He could still remember his father trying to convince uncle Fester to kill him when he thought Morticia had fallen for another man, "Ex is too strong a term. We dated for a few weeks when I was eight – she was ten. Really, we're just childhood friends." Daphne nodded. Her face was a mask of ice, but Heri could read the betrayal in her eyes.

"Just a friend. So tell me where I can find her." Herido hesitated, still trying not to imagine the two girls fighting, and suddenly there was a crack in the ice. "A friend who has impeccable taste and to whom you would trust a piece of-" She looked at the watching faces, "who you would trust with something precious. I mean, of course, how could I ever compete with that?"

Herido grabbed her hand again and placed it over his heart. "Buio dei miei occhi, Alessa couldn't hold a candle to you. …Unless, of course, you're willing to let her." Daphne stood abruptly, but he still had her hand against his chest. She stared down at him, the adrenalin pumping through her veins in anticipation of finding this 'Alessa' and ripping the girl's hair out. But then there was that feeling that if Heri would be happier with someone else she should let him go.

"And she already runs her own town? At fourteen, fifteen?" Daphne hated her.

"She's not fourteen now… she's older… it's complicated."

"Oh 'it's complicated'." Daphne snapped, but it lacked bite. There was nothing meaningful behind the phrase 'it's complicated' when it came to relationships(!)

"I don't mean 'it's complicated', I mean she's complicated." Heri tried.

"Okay she's 'complicated'? She's mysterious too? I'll just add that to the list of ways your ex is perfect." Alessa sounded like the perfect woman.

Herido stared up into Daphne's icy blues, until finally he sighed.

"I'll kill her." Herido declared, his eyes burning into hers. "I'll kill her, and we can spend the first few weeks of summer spreading bits of her throughout Philadelphia."

Daphne bit her lip. What was a girl to do with an offer like that?

Everyone within earshot watched on with bated breath. There had been no middle ground with Addams and Greengrass: when they were friends they were friends, and everyone knew Addams and his friends were fiercely protective of each other. But then a few weeks ago they started dating, and instantly the dynamic between the two was so intense it sucked everyone else in. More mature students would watch them, and then consider their own relationships – usually coming to the conclusion that perhaps they weren't quite as serious as they had thought. They all felt inadequate in comparison.

Carefully, gracefully, Daphne retook her seat. "There's no need for that. I'm not so insecure so as to be threatened by some silly ex from years ago." She took back her hand and turned to her dinner as though the last five minutes hadn't happened.

It was no good – Herido might have been ready to let it go, but their friends were not quite so kind:

"Yeah, right." George snickered.

"No jealously here at all." Fred added.

Herido made the mistake of laughing in agreement.

"Oh and I suppose you never get jealous?" Daphne asked Herido, and he didn't know whether there was a correct answer to that: if he did get jealous he was a Neanderthal who didn't trust his woman, and if he didn't get jealous he obviously didn't care about her at all, or thought other men wouldn't find her desirable.

"Of course not." Heri decided to go with honesty. "There's not a jealous bone in my body!"

"Oh good," Daphne said, taking a bite of chicken as though she didn't have a care in the world. "Then you won't care that Blaise and I dated last summer and…"

Herido made a choking noise, and then jumped to his feet:

"En guard, Blaise Zabini!" He cried, brandishing his wand like a sword. He wasn't nice enough to roll over and surrender Daphne's affections to another! Perhaps he wasn't too much like his father after all.

Everyone not in Heri's gang fled to a safe distance, while Blaise leapt up from his seat across the table, instantly raising the strongest _Light_ Protego shield he knew of with the wand in his right hand, and taking his dinner plate in his left hand to use as an actual shield. The rest of their friends hadn't moved from their place, and they continued with their meals and conversation as though nothing was happening.

A kunai knife pierced the plate a second after it was raised, and another bounced off, forcing Gregory to lift his plate so his lunch wasn't ruined by the rebound – once the knife had slid by, he replaced his meal and decided he needed more cranberry sauce…

Blaise tossed the broken plate, looked along the table and summoned several metal platters, tipping off any remaining potatoes and veg, and once they reached him he rolled to the side behind one of the twins, needing the protection while he dropped his magical shield in order to transfigure the platters into a thick round metal shield.

He jumped back to his feet and recast. "Herido…" He sighed, sounding very put out and almost bored, though he was clearly taking the threat seriously. A thud, thud, thud against metal had him smirking at his friend. Which was probably a mistake because several powerful, but perfectly legal, hexes ripped through the _protego_ like it was vapour

As soon as the barrage ended, Blaise fired a few hexes back, forcing Heri to the right (as he hadn't bothered with a shield), and then swung the hulk of metal at his face.

Herido leaned away, his back bending to an unnatural angle, before spinning at a speed difficult to follow and throwing out a solid side kick (Draco, who sat to his right, ducking down so he wasn't hit as the powerful leg sped above his head, but sitting back upright to take a drink once it passed).

Blaise had still been leaning over the table in his punch, and so his midsection took the full brunt of the kick, and he flew back, landing heavily against the Ravenclaw table and very winded. He looked to the startled student he'd fallen beside.

"Hey," He rasped. "mind if I borrow this?" Not waiting for a response, he grabbed the boy's steak knife and threw it at Herido's head, but Heri easily deflected it with the back of his hand, and raised his wand one more.

Blaise gathered his strength and pushed himself from the table. He raised his hands, but still held his wand tightly, ready to attack or defend.

"Herido," he tried again, "She's having you on." His voice calm and confident, even though a part of his survival instinct screamed that he was in life-threatening danger. He wasn't, or at least he didn't believe so. This little spar was pretty par for the course for his friends – if Addams wanted to kill him, Blaise doubted he would even see the blow coming.

With his wand still aimed at his friend, Heri looked back at Daphne in question. She took another dainty bite.

"Not jealous, eh?" She said with a coy smile, a smile that melted Herido's insides and pulled him back to her side like a magnet.

"You tricky little minx."

Heri turned to give Blaise an apologetic half shrug, which Blaise waved off, and then felt Daphne's knuckles run along his cheekbones. He snatched her hand up and kissed it. "Cara Bella." He whispered. Both friends and fearful looked away, rolling their eyes or shaking their hands.

"He's such a drama queen." Draco said.

Twins looked at each other, and then Draco.

"Well, yes,"

"He's an Addams."

"You have met his dad, right?"

Slowly, slowly, the students returned to their seats and carried on as before. That lot was never right, and everyone thought it best to just let them be.

At the head table, several teachers sat aghast. McGonagall would have called out a loss of points for Slytherin, but as angry as she was that they would fight in the middle of the great hall, she was also impressed by their display. Zabini's use of transfiguration while in the middle of a fight filled her with pride, though she knew it was misplaced, and one glance at Flitwick told her he too was impressed by such a multi-layered duel, well, no, not at duel. There were rules to dueling and they were not 'anything goes'.

Snape would usually be angry about students of his house acting this way in public, but he knew that this display would only add to Slytherin's reputation, as well as the reputation of Addams' gang. At first the group was given respect and fear because of their association with Addams, but now each member had their own individual reputation that grew as each season passed. Snape supposed that even if Addams was to leave, these little (mostly) 12 and 13 years olds could rule the school if they chose to. And he knew they were capable of much more than fights over the dinner table.

He frowned: McGonagall really should have stepped in when the first shot was fired, because allowing them to fight set a bad precedent… He worried this could become a regular event… Maybe, and he hated to think this way, but maybe it would be for the best if Dumbledore returned.

He looked back to Addams, who was currently chatting pleasantly with his friends, and remembered he had a meeting with the boy that night. During the devastating storm a few weeks ago, two people went missing. One was an auror who later was found washed up on the banks of a river several miles away, his body battered and disfigured supposedly by the brutal forces of nature. The other missing man was Lockhart, and Snape suspected his disappearance to be more sinister in nature. He'd asked Addams about it directly, because the boy didn't hide his distaste for the Defense teacher, and Addams said they could discuss it tonight. Given the time they'd spent together, and the secrets they shared, Snape wasn't really worried about it. He should have been.

* * *

The moon was bright as Herido led Snape into the forest, deeper than they'd been before and down non-existent paths that he didn't recognise.

"I do not appreciate all this cloak and dagger nonsense." Snape drawled, using his wand to remove the foliage and hanging branches in his path.

"Nor do I. I suck at it." Herido admitted and then shrugged. "But heyho, school's for learning."

Snape would have challenged what sounded to him like an admission that the boy was up to something, but they stepped down into a small meadow and he momentarily lost the ability to speak. He also very nearly lost his supper.

Directly in the middle of the clearing, illuminated far too well by the brilliant moonlight shining down unhindered, were two small wooden boats fastened one atop the other , in which lay what remained of, who Snape could only guess was once, Gilderoy Lockhart. Only his head, arms and feet could be seen, and only just, for they were covered in a moving swarm of insects and vermin. The wind changed and Snape lost his composure and gagged as an overwhelming stench of honey and excrement and putrid rot filled the air. His ears started to ring. Ick. He couldn't even think about what was going on inside the boats.

Heri smiled at the reaction. Lockhart's fate was a particularly cruel one, but the man offended Heri by simply being alive, so he thought such an ugly death befitted such an ugly soul.

"S-se-severus – please – k-kill me-" Severus was horrified to hear the desperate, almost inaudible rasp, and see one eye peering at him. Lockhart was still alive.

"What did we say about talking?" Snape didn't know how, but he managed not to jump out of his skin at the fiercely hard words that came from the devil to his left. Lockhart didn't react, Snape didn't think he could, but he also didn't say anything more. He just kept staring at him, silently pleading.

Seeing he had succeeded in shaking up his stolid professor, Heri spoke, "Ignore him, professor. He's fine." Good fortune had delivered Lockhart to Heri. The man had been hit by falling bits of castle during the storm, and had wondered into the forest in a state of confusion. Herido found him a few days later and helped him get over the concussion – then he took the opportunity to deliver his horrific death day. "Now, I think we need to talk."

"I very much doubt that." Snape hadn't taken his eyes from his colleague.

"I don't particularly mind your harboring animosity towards me, professor, but I'm afraid I must take exception when you bring my father into it."

Snape finally glanced away and to Addams. His father? Snape wasn't stupid enough to attack the Addams patriarch, even verbally, so he had no idea what the boy was talking about.

"You called him arrogant." Heri helped. He didn't really care about that, because his father probably was arrogant in some way, and certainly not petty enough to care about a minor slight. However, Snape had spoken of his father with unconcealed hatred and scorn, and Heri didn't like that.

Clenching his teeth, his nerves still rattled, and his desire to fire at the boy increasing with every second, Snape cottoned on to what Herido was talking about. He looked back at Lockhart for a second, to the man who had been slowly eaten alive for over a week... He was deep into the forest, in an unknown location, alone with this boy… He grit his teeth harder, sticking his courage.

Suddenly he brought his wand down in Lockhart's direction. " _Avada Kedavra!"_

Heri took a deep breath, soaking up the darkness that snapped around him, and watched the eerie flash of green dance against the trees; dark magic out shining the moon herself. It was the first time he'd felt Snape use _proper_ Dark magic, and even if it was used in an act of pity, it was delicious. Snape was born to be a Dark wizard. His core was more at peace as he fired the death curse than Heri had ever seen it to be. It was the only thing that stopped him moaning at Snape for spoiling his fun. He, Ron, and Gregory had a bet on how long Lockhart would last, and now that was ruined.

Snape turning to face him head on, his black eyes boring into Heri's, livid yet calculating, and Heri felt the side of his mouth lift in a smile. "I spoke of your biological father." Snape told him, his voice low and menacing, and crystal clear with conviction. "And he was arrogant, and vile, and weak, and the world is a better place for his passing." The smile slid from Herido's face, and he returned Snape's intense stare. For a few moments it looked as though they might fight.

Heri wondered what James Potter had done to Snape to make him hate so. He would find out.

Snape saw the curious look and shook his head, before turned briefly to set Lockhart and those creatures that feasted upon him alight. It didn't seem right to let them live. The action was dramatic, the flames hotter and larger than necessary and clearly making a point. "Do not ever try to threaten me, Herido Addams!" He quickly swept away.

Damn, Heri thought, he really sucked at this. He had forced Snape into giving him some answers, which was a start, he supposed. He now finally understood why the man had treated him with such distain. The man was good though, and Heri didn't imagine he'd be spilling all his personal issues unless he got him in the playroom for an hour. Maybe one day. In the meantime…

Snape only made it a few meters when his feet stuck fast to the mossy ground. Darkness descended around him in an instant and from within the shadows right in front of him stepped Addams.

"I wouldn't dream of it, professor." And then the shadows and the darkness were gone, and so was Herido.

Severus shuddered, realising for the second time in as many years that Addams could kill in an instant. He took a breath, and then had to use _point me_ to find north, and eventually his way back to the castle.

* * *

 **Sang froid – Cold blood**

 **Buio dei miei occhi – darkness of my eyes**

 **Whoop. Second year is over.** **Bring on the summer, and year three. heehee.** **I think Heri is better at threatening than he thinks ;)**

 **Hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading xx**


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